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SKETCH 



OF THE 



LIFE AND CHARACTER 



OF 



MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO, 



BY JOHN STRICKER, 

OF THE BALTIMORE BAR. 



Tlos delibatus populi, suadaeque medulla." — Ennius. 



BALTIMORE : 
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 

BY LUCAS & DEAVER. 
MDCCCXXXV. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1S35, by John Stricker, in 
the Clerk's Office, of the District Court of Maryland. 



To the Honorable 

EDWARD EVERETT, 

Sir : The following sketch was suggested by a perusal 
of the learned and ingenious work of Dr. Conyers Mid- 
dleton upon the great subject of which it treats. The 
view of Cicero it affords is essentially different from that 
of the Doctor, who may be called his apologist. It has 
been my care, however, when arriving at conclusions, un- 
friendly to the fame of the Roman, to accompany them 



with evidence, ample as I think, and principally his own. 
The propriety of dedicating a work of this nature to one 
distinguished as a statesman, and of eminent scholarship, 
! is obvious; and it is with pride and pleasure that I avail 
myself of your permission to inscribe it to you. 
With the highest consideration, 
I have the honor to be, Sir, 

Your obedient, humble servant, 

JOHN STRICKER. 
Baltimore, April 1835. 



A SKETCH 

OF THE 

LIFE AND CHARACTER 

OP 

CICERO. 



SECTION I. 



Marcus Tullius Cicero was born about one hundred 
and seven years before Christ, at Arpinum, now a decayed 
town called Arpino, in the kingdom of Naples, and as he 
himself informs us in the month of January, With regard to 
the rank of his family writers have not agreed. By some, it is 
said to have been greatly elevated ; deriving lustre from royal- 
ty itself: whilst others affirm that the birth of the orator was 
ignoble.* In this matter, however^ we are disposed to fol- 
low Cicero's own account, by which it would seem that 
both are wrong. 

His grandfather, he tells us, was a man of note at Arpi- 
num, and that his spirit and conduct in the management of 
some corporation disputes, had attracted the notice of the 
consul Scaurus, who expressed a wish that he would aban- 
don so obscure a theatre and come and act at Rome.t 

* Middleton. Ad. Atticum, VII. V. it XIII. 42. Plutarch, Dio. L. 46, page 295. 
Silius Ilalicus. There have been different reasons for the name Cicero. Pliny's 
is thought the best; he supposes that the person who first bore it was remarkable 
for the cultivation of vetches, leguminous plants resembling peas: so Fabius, Len- 
tulus and Piso, had their names from beans, tares and peas. Cicer is the latin cf 
Vetch. Tullius from flowing streams or ducts of water, and probably derived as 
Middleton thinks from the ancient situation of the family at the confluence of two 
rivers. Pompeius Festus in voce Tullius. Tullus, a king of the Volsci, was the 
monarch from whom Cicero was said by some to have descended. 

fDeLegib. 2, 1. lb. 3, 16, 

2 



14 SKETCH OF THE 

His father Marcus, from whom, being the eldest born, he 
took that name, was a man of wisdom and learning, but 
seems to have been infirm of health, and to have therefore, 
though not without deep reluctance, foregone all attempts 
to rise in the State ; passing the greater part of his life, at his 
seat, in the enjoyment, as far as might be, of leisure and 
elegant literature.* 

Of his mother, Helvia, the orator no where speaks : she 
was however, a woman of fortune, a thrifty housewife, and 
of noble birth, t 

The fortune of the family must have been easy, if not af- 
fluent, as on its first introduction at Rome, it took rank at 
once with the equestrian order in the State. That order, 
unlike to modern knighthood, was accessible only to men of 
some fortune. 

Himself debarred, as we have seen, from public honors, 
and lamenting the long indolence of his progenitors in re- 
gard to them, Marcus was the more anxious in animating his 
son's ambition, and spared neither money nor pains in so 
instructing him, as to prepare him for the highest dignities. 
His paternal care was soon and well repaid ; CiGero, in the 
progress of his studies, disclosing brilliant talents, as well 
as the love of glory, which may be said to have been 
throughout life his master passion, and the real secret of 
his greatness. 

Intensely diligent as a student, and believing that an ac- 
complished orator, the character he aimed at, should be able 
at all times, to speak soundly and elegantly upon every 
subject presented to him, he applied with ardor to universal 
learning. Assuming the manly gown and admitted to the 
forum, law, politics, philosophy and poetry, were each his 
care. In the first, he met with friendly guides in the two 
Scsevolas, one conspicuous as a statesman, and both pro- 
foundly skilled in the laws ; in philosophy he had the bene- 
fit of Grecian masters of the Epicurean, Academick and 
Stoick sects ; whilst in poetry and polite letters, he had 

*Qui cum csset infuma valetudine, hie fere aetatem egit in Uteris De Legib, 2. I. 
fduintus Cicero to Tiro. . 



LIFE OF CICERO. 15 

long availed himself of the lessons of Archias, a distinguished 
Syrian, whom he much admired, and whom in after life, he 
defended in an oration of exquisite polish, still extant. 

With the most liberal endowments of nature, and with 
ambition equal to his genius, the vast superiority of this 
eminent Roman can furnish no surprise. It was the natu- 
ral result, as well as high reward of his untiring industry 
and rigorous discipline. We cannot too much admire his 
honorable toils, and his mode of training in oratory, his 
darling study, is worthy of particular praise, and all imita- 
tion. We gather from his life by Middleton, that "whilst he 
was studying the law under the Sceevolas, he spent a large 
share of his time in attending the pleadings at the bar, and 
the public speeches of the magistrates, and never passed 
one day without reading and writing something at home ; 
constantly taking notes, and making comments on what he 
read. He was fond when very young of an exercise, re- 
commended by some of the greatest orators before him, of 
reading over a part of the verses of some esteemed poet, 
or a part of an oration so carefully as to retain the sub- 
stance of them in memory, and then deliver the same sen- 
timents in different words, the most elegant that occurred 
to him. But he soon grew weary of this, upon reflecting 
that his authors had already employed the best words that 
belonged to their subject : so that if he used the same 
words it would do him no good, and if different would 
even hurt him by a habit of using worse. He applied "t 
himself therefore to another task of more certain benefit, 
to translate into latin, the select speeches of the best 
Greek orators, which gave him an opportunity of observing 
and employing all the most elegant words of his own lan- 
guage, and of enriching it at the same time with new ones 
borrowed, or imitated from the Greek."* In addition, the 

* De Orat. 1, 5, 6, 13, 16. We avail ourselves of Dr. Middleton's Synopsis, here, 
as we shall sometimes do heieafter. This manner of exercise was adopted by most 
of the great orators of antifluity. Plutarch and Cicero tell us that Demosthenes and 
Hortensius had both pursued it; and it is also said, that the first was much assisted 
in his early attempts, by the friendly admonition and instruction of the famous 
comedian? Satyrus, Neoptolemus and Andronicus, 



16 SKETCH OF THE 

company of the fair was made tributary to his improvement ; 
selecting those whose ancestors had excelled in eloquence, 
or who were themselves distinguished for the refinements 
of language. We have often, he says in his history of fa- 
mous orators, "read the letters of Cornelia, the mother of 
the Gracchi, and are satisfied that her sons were not so much 
nurtured in their mother's lap, as in the elegance and puri- 
ty of her language. I have often too enjoyed the conversa- 
tion of Lselia, the daughter of Caius, and observed in her 
a strong tincture of her father's elegance. I have likewise 
conversed with her two daughters, the Mucise, and his 
grand-daughters, the two Licinias, with one of whom, the 
wife of Scipio, you my Brutus have sometimes been in 
company." To strengthen the effect of eloquence by grace 
and elegance in action, he took lessons from Roscius and 
iEsop, the one excellent in comedy, the other in tragedy ; and 
alive to the importance of health in the command of know- 
ledge, his exercise was regular, and life most temperate.* 

Such was the course marked out for himself: unremit- 
tingly pursued, he has left us in his works, an illustrious 
monument of its wisdom. 

Ardent as was his desire of renown as an orator, and 
although in all his labors that was in constant view, he had 
also an eye to the high offices of State, and at the proper age, 
the consulship itself was the great object of his hopes. To 
war, the Roman empire owed much, if not all its splen- 
dor; there was no surer passport to popular favor, than 
success in arms; and military skill was in truth suited to 
the genius of the government itself. /The Italick war arose 
when Cicero was about eighteen years of age. In this w r ar 
he made a campaign with the consul Strabo, and served 
afterwards under Sylla.t With no particular aptitude for 
the camp, we are told of none of* his exploits as a soldier ; 
and it must not be dissembled that his reputation for cour- 
age was any thing but distinguished. We may presume, 

*His alledged obligations to the players are denied, as in our day, is the tutortge 
of Talma to Napoleon. 
fMiddleton. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 17 

however, that he gained sufficient experience to facilitate 
his advancement in the State; and it is not improbable, 
felt the benefit of this early service, when afterwards go- 
vernor of Cilicia. 

During the absence of Sylla in the war against Mith- 
ridates, there was an interval of repose at Rome, in which 
Molo, the renowned teacher of eloquence, came thither, 
and our orator was then, as afterwards, his scholar. * 

The great struggle between the contending factions was 
soon after terminated by the concentration of all power in 
the person of Sylla. The public quiet, and the business of 
the forum were restored, and Cicero in his twenty-sixth 
year came to the bar.ylt is perhaps fortunate that the 
commotions in the state had prevented his earlier admis- 
sion ; as during their continuance he had an opportunity, at 
leisure, to accumulate great stores of learning, and to im- 
prove that ornate style, for which he was afterwards so 
celebrated, t 

'His first efforts at the bar were met with unmeasured ap- 
plause, and betokened future greatness. The Romans 
were not more charmed by his eloquence, than by his bold 
and manly defence of his clients, even when the power and 
policy of the dictator himself were in question: /This ear- 
ly independence, for which, to say the truth, he was not al- 
ways remarkable, was apparent in the cause of a woman of 
Aretrium, which he gained in opposition to a man of 
the first eminence ; and in the case of Sextus Roscius. 

The truly able defence of Roscius, was made in the con- 
sulship of L. Sylla, and Q. Metellus, in the year of Rome 
673. Sextus Roscius, the father of the defendant, was a 
rich citizen of Ameria, and was murdered in Rome, as he 
was returning from supper. Chrysogonus, a favorite of 
Sylla, and two of the Roscii, who had quarrelled with their 
kinsman, shared his ample estate. Fearful that the deed 
of sale from Chrysogonus might not avail in law, the two 
Roscii contrived first, to have the name of the murdered 
mar! enrolled among the number of the proscribed, and 

*DeOrat. flbid. 



2 



18 SKETCH OF THE 

next, to prevent all obstruction in the enjoyment of the 
spoil, prevailed with Eretrius, a hackney prosecutor, as 
Guthrie calls him, to accuse the son of the parricide. Ci- 
cero, in speaking of this effort, tells us that it. was made in 
the first cause he pleaded, and that it met with such a fa- 
vorable reception, he was from that moment looked upon 
as an advocate of the first class, and as equal to the great- 
est and most important causes, and adds that he shared in 
many others, the speeches in which were composed before- 
hand with all the accuracy he could give to them.* 

If this speech for Roscius will not favorably compare in 
point of eloquence, with the great subsequent efforts of Ci- 
cero, which we do not admit, there can be no question that 
there was one cardinal merit here, the absence of which in 
after life, is not seldom to be lamented. We mean adhe- 
rence to duty in spite of power. "No motive, said he, can 
be so powerful as to make my fears get the better of my 
honor." The reader will see in the course of these pages, 
how soon this manly determination was abandoned. 

Though Cicero speaks of this cause as the first he con- 
ducted, he must be understood as referring to a public or 
criminal cause; as he had in the first year of his admission 
to the bar, delivered a speech in the case of Publius Quinc- 
tius, upon a question growing out of the devise, and part- 
nership transactions of a brother. 

In the book of offices, he reflects with pride, upon his 
manliness on these early occasions, and points his son to 
the protection of the weak when wronged by the great, as 
the true road to glory and authority.! 

His reputation now established, he determined to travel. 
Different motives have been imputed to him; and some 
have said that fear of Sylia was thA cause.? He informs 
us himself, "that his health was impaired, that speaking 

*Brut. 

fMaximc autem et gloria paritur et gratia defensionibus; eoque major, si quando 
accidit, ut ei subveniatur, qui potentis alicujus opibua circumveniri urgerique videa- 
tur; ut nos et sccpe alias, et adoloscentes contra L. Sulla: dominantis opes, pro S. 
Roscio Amerino lecimus; quae ut scis exstat oratio, De Otfic, 2, 14. 

t Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICEHO. 19 

without any remission or variation, with the utmost stretch 
of his voice, and a total agitation of his body, his lungs 
were endangered, and that rather than forego the hopes of 
glory looked for in pleading, he resolved to visit Asia, with 
the sole view of correcting his manner of speaking.* In 
this he was successful; the defect,! on his return, having al- 
most entirely disappeared. 

Some months were spent at Athens, where he applied 
himself to philosophy and rhetoric, and enjoyed the society 
of Atticus, whom his friendship has immortalized. In his 
application to these studies in Greece, he was the more 
sedulous, as Plutarch tells us that he had already taken his 
resolution, should he fail in his design of rising in the state, 
to retire from the forum and all political intrigues, to Athens, 
and spend his days in peace, in the bosom of philosophy. 

On leaving Greece, he passed into Asia, where he was 
voluntarily attended by the principal orators; of the coun- 
try, with whom he renewed his rhetorical exercises ; and on 
his return, again took lessons at .Rhodes, from Molo ; who, 
when Cicero declaimed, is said to have lamented the fortune 
of Greece, that he should transplant to Rome arts and elo- 
quence, the only ornaments left to her.§ Molo's principal 
difficulty with him, as we learn from his works, was in re- 
straining the luxuriancy of his juvenile imagination. 

After an absence of two years, he returned to Rome, 
with augmented learning, improved style, and renovated 
health. In allusion to his foreign journey, a modern wri- 
ter observes that he "leisurely studied Greek authors, was 
taught to prune off superfluities, and to purify his style, 
which he did to a high degree of refinement; introducing 
into his native tongue a sweetness, a grace, a majesty, that 
surprised the world, and even the Romans themselves ;"|| 
and the orator himself assures us that his improvement 

*Brut. 437. 

jit is known that Demosthenes had to contend with similar difficulties; and the 
story of his subterranean study, and shaving his head, to prevent his going abroad, 
is familiar. 

X Brut. 437. § Plutarch. [| Karnes. 



20 SKETCH OF THE 

had been thorough, and that on his return he was almost 
a new man. 

His scheme of travel has been on all hands commended; 
and it is certain that its advantages were much enhanced 
by the knowledge he had acquired of the government and 
laws of his own country, before he left it ; in this affording 
a salutary but much neglected lesson, to our modern youth, 
whose fortunes are equal to foreign tours. 

It is said in Plutarch, that Cicero, in returning to Rome, 
visited Delphi, and that his ambition was rebuked by the 
answer of the oracle, which advised him to make nature, 
not the opinion of the people, the guide of his life. This, 
however, has been well controverted by Dr. Middleton, who 
thinks it improbable that he would have shewn so great 
homage to an oracle, which from his works, he seems, with 
the men of sense of his time, to have held in no estimation.* 
The famous imposture at Delphi, had, as is known, long 
exerted a powerful control in the deliberations of states, 
and had not seldom decided the fate of kingdoms. The 
presence of the god appears to have been first revealed to 
goats, animals by no means remarkable for sagacity: the 
goatherd, attracted by the antics of his flock, became a con- 
vert, and general veneration and pilgrimage ensued; yet for 
a long course of time, the wise and philosophical, and we 
doubt not. Cicero himself, would, but for political purposes, 
have willingly destroyed its influence, and have consigned 
the temple, with its wealth, to the fate which, afterwards, 
under Nero and Constantine befel them. At all events, 
we know that the admonition of the god did not prevent 
the return of the Roman to the bar, and that he not only 
sought its honors with undiminished ardor, but was soon 
after successful in soliciting the questorship, to which he 
was unanimously chosen, and which raised him to the dig- 
nity of the senate.! 

Before his election, he had largely partaken of the toils 
of his profession ; and entered the lists with his great con- 
temporaries Hortensius, and others ; with whom, he at once 

* De Divin. 2, 56, 57. f Brut. 223. InPisol. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 21 

contended, with highest honor to himself — and whom he 
afterwards far excelled."* The effect of their renown upon 
his mind and efforts, with the glorious results to which it 
led, reminds us forcibly of the sorrow of the Grecian, who 
could not sleep for the trophies of Miltiades. With Cicero, 
as with the hero of Salamis, it seems to have roused all 
emulation, and every faculty of his soul was exerted, not so 
much to equal, as to lead.t 

We cannot but regret the loss of the speeches of Hor- 
tensius. He was of patrician dignity, and of reputation in 
oratory, only inferior to that of Cicero. Of Cotta, also emi- 
nent at the bar, there are, we believe, but few remains. 
The task of contrasting their speeches, had they survived, 
with those of Tully, would have been no doubt delightful ; 
the verdict of posterity may have been different, or at least 
not so universal in Cicero's behalf; but from unquestiona- 
ble contemporaneous and other testimony, the superiority of 
his living fame is not to be impeached. Had Julius Caesar 
applied to eloquence, as soberly as he did to the ruin of his 
country, he, it is thought, might have disputed the palm 
with the greatest. 

The defence of the player Roscius, was made about the 
time of Cicero's questorship, or rather before it. The trib- 
ute of antiquity to the merit of this man, is ample; in his art 
he was without a rival, in private life most admirable; and if 
we believe his advocate, worthy of the senate for his virtues. 
In the speech for Archias, Cicero tells us that Roscius died 
indeed an old man, but that his art and elegance seemed to 
challenge an immortality to his person; and Catulus pro- 
nounced him more beautiful than the rising sun, though 

*"Hortensius pleaded with general applause al 19 years of age, and continued in 
the same profession, 48 years. Eclipsed by Cicero, lie embraced a military life; be. 
came a military tribune, praetor, and afterwards consul, at 70 B. C. His rival speaks 
of him in such a manner as to-rncrease our regret at the loss of his orations; though 
Gluintilian mentions them as much overrated. He had a wonderful memory, and 
delivered his speeches in reply without taking a single note, or forgetting any thing 
advanced by his adversary. He died very rich, a little before the civil war, which 
he had endeavored by all possible means to prevent. He was remarkable for his 
wealth, affectation, and stock of wines." 

fThe eloquence and glory of Callistratus seem to have equally, and in the same 
way, acted upon Demosthenes.— Plutarch in Dem. 



22 SKETCH OF THE 

there was about him a defect, fatal, one would suppose, to 
beauty : no less than squinting eyes.* 

It may be well to state, before we follow Cicero into 
Sicily, whither the duties of his questorship called him, that 
he had very early tried his skill in authorship. The genius 
of this extraordinary man in poetry, appears to have been, 
at the least, active. We learn from Plutarch, that when in 
the vein, he could produce five hundred verses in a night. 
His translations in some fragments, are known to us; and 
an oiiginal poem in praise of Marius, was thought by Scae- 
vola to have made him immortal. How far the judgment 
of Scsevola may have been influenced by his relation of di- 
rector to so hopeful a pupil, we do not know; nor were the 
entire poem before us, would our skill in Latin verse permit 
us to approve or condemn his applause. The poem was, 
however, read and admired by Atticus; whose opinion, if 
not swayed by friendship, to the prejudice of truth, we might 
take to be conclusive : his competency as a judge, cannot 
be questioned. t The reader will see, nevertheless, when 

* A slave jointly owned by Roscius and another, was murdered, Roscius prose, 
cuted for the murder, and recovered damages for his shaie in the slave. His part- 
ner, pretending to have received nothing, sued him for the half of the moiety he 
had recovered. There was in the last century a like instance of eminent art as a 
player, and integrity and dignity as a man, in the person of Betterton, who, like 
Roscius, was high in the esteem of an illustrious contemporary, Pope. 

f "Titus Pomponius Atticus, was one of the most honorable men of ancient Rome. 
He understood the art of conducting himself with such address, that without leav- 
ing his state of neutrality, he preserved the esteem and affection of all parties. Hi3 
6trict friendship with Cicero did not hinder him from a great intimacy with Hor- 
tensius. The contests at Rome, between Cinna's party and that of Marius, induced 
him to go to Athens, where he continued for a long time. [He acquired his name, At- 
ticus, from his fondness for, and long residence in, Athens.] He was very fond of 
polite learning, and kept at his house several librarians and readeis. He might 
have obtained the most considerable posts in the government, but forebore to mingle 
in public affairs out of regard for his philosophy; He was a strict Epicurean, and 
held pleasure to be the chief good of man, and death the extinction of his being; 
and had, says Dr. Middleton, all the talents that could qualify a man to be useful to 
society, great parts, learning, judgment, candor, benevolence, generosity : the same 
love of his country, and the same sentiments in politics as Cicero, whom he was 
always advising and urging to act, and yet determined never to act himself: or at 
least never so far as to disturb his ease, or endanger his safety." After the second 
triumvirate, Atticus profited by the caution he had maintained, having carried it so 
far as to prevent tlie publication of a single one of his numerous epistles to Cicero. 
His daughter was married to Agrippa, the friend of Augustus, and he afterwards 
became allied to the Emperor himself, by the marriage of his grand-daughter with 
the monster Tiberius. He would, however, have scarcely been known, but for hia 



LIFE OF CICERO. 23 

we recur, as we shall do, to this subject, that in the judg- 
ment of Juvenal, and others, Cicero was in no great favor 
with the muse. 

He was married when about thirty years of age, to his 
first wife Terentia. This lady was rich, and gave him a son 
and daughter, but is represented as of imperious temper, 
and otherwise vexatious, and took, he tells us, a far larger 
share in his political affairs than she was willing to concede 
to him in domestic matters. He therefore, in after life, 
availed himself of the facilities the Roman law afforded, 
and divorced her. If we may judge, however, from his 
letters when in exile, she was then the object of his re- 
spectful affection. * 

close relation of friendship to Cicero. "Nomen Attici perire Ciceronis epistolce non 
sinunt. Nihil ille profuisset gener Agrippa, et Tiberius progener, et Drusus prone- 
pos, inter tam magna nomina taceretur, nisi Cicero illu:a applicuissit." Seneca, 
ep. 21st. It is impossible to approve the time-serving of this polished Roman ; but 
there is much to commend in his generous friendship to Cicero. At no time of need , 
was his ample purse withheld. Atticus wrote annals, of which Cicero observes, 
that though he carefully specified the time of every event, and omitted no transac- 
tion of moment, he comprised the history of seven hundred years, in a single volume. 
De Orat. 318 to Brut. 

* "Notwithstanding the extraordinary facility in obtaining a divorce, it was at first 
thought disreputable, and four ages appear to have elapsed before it was resorted to. 
Sp. Carvilius Ruga, repudiated his wife, though deeply enamoured, because of her 
barrenness ; but met with the indignation of all Rome. His example, however, waa 
very promptly followed, and divorces soon became as frequent as they had been 
rare. When Paulus ^Emilius repudiated Fapiria, all were astonished — Is not your 
wife wise ? said they. Is she not fair? Has she not brought you children? Point- 
ing to his shoe, Paulus replied : "This shoe, is it not fine ? is it not well made ? but 
none of you know where it pinches me. Caius Sulpicius Gallus put away his wife for 
going bare-headed in public: Sempronius Sophus his, for having whispered a freed- 
woman — Antistius Vetus his, for going to a public spectacle without his knowledge. 
Seneca says that there were some, who no longer reckoned the years by the con- 
suls, but by the number of husbands." "Num quid jam ulla repudio erubescit, post 
quam illustres quaedam ac nobiles feminte non consulum numero sed maritorum an- 
nos suos computant." — De Benefic 1. 3, c. 16. This license had the sanction of the 
wisest. Cato surrendered his wife to Hortensius, though he had a family by her, 
and though she was pregnant when put away. On the death of Hortensius, leaving 
her the heiress of his fortune, to the prejudice of his son, the great Stoick did not 
hesitate to receive her baGk again. Cicero put away Terentia for her imperious 
temper, and for neglect of his domestic affairs. His second wife, it will be seen, 
met the same fate, but for another cause. Though widowhood was highly applaud- 
ed, and even secured the epithet "univira," by way of honor, Terentia and the 
charming Tullia appear to have often shewn a disregard of the distinction Teren- 
tia, who lived to a great age, took as a second husband, Sallust, an enemy of Cicero, 
Messala was her third, and she is said to have had a fourth, Vibius Rufus, even so 
late as the reign of Tiberius ; whilst Tullia, Piso's widow, married before a year had 



24 SKETCH OF THE 

For his daughter Tullia, he had the tenderest regard, 
which appears to have been well deserved. To the charms 
of person, she joined a masculine intellect and noble cha- 
racter; and was so accomplished by his care, as greatly to 
heighten his enjoyments, when not engaged at the bar, or 
as a magistrate. Her loss at an early age, was, as we shall 
see, a source of overpowering grief. 

On his arrival in Sicily, in execution of his trust as ques- 
tor, Cicero appears to have resolved to devote himself to a 
clear understanding and faithful discharge of his duties, and 
to forego all diversion, howsoever innocent, which might in 
any way conflict with them. In this he was so fortunate as 
to gain the general love of the Sicilians, and to have in- 
spired them with that admiration of his talents and virtues, 
which they at all times avowed, and which he afterwards 
gratefully repaid by the prosecution and ruin of their op- 
pressor. 

The fair island of Sicily was then, as now, fertile in grain; 
to supply the city with which, was one of his chief duties 
as questor, who was a general receiver and treasurer, and 
whose business it was to provide for the public consump- 
tion at home. The distress this year at Rome, was so ur- 
gent, and the demand upon the island so great, that there 
was need of the utmost address in relieving the one, with- 
out injury to the other. The necessity for the supply was 
the greater, as the factious and seditious at home, were 
availing themselves of the public wants, to exasperate the 
minds of the people. Great as were the difficulties, the 
questor subdued them, to the satisfaction of all parties; and 
so delighted were the Cicilians with his justice, humanity, 
and courtesy, at this trying crisis, that on the expiration of 
his office, they decreed to him honors before unheard of. # 
Cicero need fear no charge of modesty, in this his own 

expired, Furius Crasippes. and separating from him, married Dolabella, whom she 
also quitted. St Jerome speaks wilh indignation of a man in his time, at Rome, who 
had buried 20 wives ; and of a woman who had buried 22 husbands. The ladies 
appear to have fought hard for equality in this important matter, and in all others of 
a like nature — Vid. D'Jlrnay's private life of the Romans. 
*Pro Plane 26. In Q. Ccecilium 1. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 25 

statement of his glories : of his vanity, however, which 
has been strangely denied, though Plutarch thinks that it 
often interrupted his best and wisest designs, we shall 
speak hereafter. 

All his leisure whilst abroad was, as usual, devoted to 
improvement in his favorite art; and his own opinion was, 
that at the time of his return his abilities as a speaker had 
reached their zenith. In the succeeding year, he says, when 
I returned from Sicily my oratorical talents, such as they 
were, displayed themselves in their full perfection and ma- 
turity.* In our view, however, his powers were greatly im- 
proved as he advanced in age, and were far more dazzling 
in middle life than before. Indeed at that time, and after- 
wards, liberty and the threatened ruin of his country were 
his great and noble themes. We can imagine none more 
elevated, or more suited to elicit and perfect oratorical 
power. 

He relates a fact which cannot fail to surprise us when 
we take into view the great reputation for learning and re- 
finement, which Syracuse, at no ancient period, enjoyed. 
When in that city, in the progress of a tour through the 
island, led by natural curiosity, he desired to be shown 
the tomb of Archimedes; but was amazed to hear from the 
magistrates, that they knew nothing of it, and it was even 
denied that any such existed. His reading, however, told 
him otherwise; he recollected the engraving, and the in- 
scription, and by this means the tomb was discovered.! It 
is true that letters have perpetuated this great man's fame: 
we are familiar with the story of his vast mathematical pow- 
ers, and their efficient application against the Roman arms, 
and want no brass nor marble evidence of his surpassing 
genius; yet having given distinction to the Sicilian name, 
and having been signally useful at the cost of his life, at a 
moment of utmost peril, he had surely an especial title to the 
lasting remembrance of Syracuse, and her indifference to his 
ashes was dishonorable as extraordinary. For obvious rea- 

*Brut. 223. t Tusc. Quaest. 5, 3. 



26 SKETCH OF THE 

sons, it is the high duty of every state, to yield honor where 
honor is due, and the public gratitude is not more just than 
it is politic. "Indeed no man knows, when he cuts off the 
incitements to a virtuous ambition, and the just rewards of 
public service, what infinite mischief he may do his coun- 
try through all generations." — Edmund Burke. 

It was necessary at Rome, after an election to the quaes- 
torship, that an interval of five years should elapse, before a 
citizen was eligible to the next highest dignity. The five 
years between the choice of Cicero as quaestor and his aedile- 
ship, were marked by great events. The domestic peace 
was often disturbed by the popular desire to annul the acts 
of Sylla ; grateful to the higher ranks, and often salutary in 
themselves; the mithridalick war conducted by Lucullus, 
was renewed, and after a gallant and protracted struggle, 
Sertorius was subdued in Spain by Pompey.* About the 
same time, the war of the gladiators, or servile war, raged 
in the heart of Italy ; and it was soon after, that by sustain- 
ing the demands of the people in their efforts to regain the 
tribunician power, as once enjoyed, Julius Caesar smoothed 
the way to his future fatal power. t 

From our knowledge of the character of Cicero, had 
himself been silent, we should infer that during all this in- 
terval, his professional zeal had in no degree abated. It 
was in truth unremitted, and so exercised, as to win him 
golden opinions. We have, nevertheless, to lament the total 
loss of his speeches pronounced at this time. 

As before, when chosen quaestor, he was now made aedile 
by unanimous suffrage. He had not, however, entered 
upon his duties as such, when Verres, sometime governor 
of Sicily, was prosecuted for extortion and rapine in that 
province. The speech against Caecilius, in that part of this 
eause, called Divinatio,t will teach us the particular nature of 

*Pro Cluer.tio 29.— Plut. in Luc. et Pom. jSuetonius 5.— Appian 2, 445. 

J*'Bv Divinatio,the Romans meant that kind of trial, in which two or moie were 
concerned among themselves, for the right and privilege of prosecuting. Asconius 
fa good authority in matters of this nature,] is of opinion that this species of trial 
was called Divinatio.from its being conversant, not about a past, but a future event, 
viz : which of the contending parties should in the issue, be vested with the right 
of accusing."— [Guthrie.] Others think differently ; but Asconius will enable the 
reader to understand the text; 



LIFE OF CICERO. 27 

the crime charged. "They told me that now was the time 
for defending, not only the interests, but the lives and pro- 
perties of a whole people ; that their towns were rifled of 
their gods: therefore to their gods they could have no re- 
course ; that Verres had robbed their most awful shrines of 
their most venerable images, that whatever could be done 
by luxury to improve sensuality, by cruelty to heighten pain, 
by avarice to prompt rapaciousness, or by pride to support 
insolence, was by this one praetor inflicted." 

Cicero, mindful of his promise to the Sicilians, though 
generally reluctant to accuse, now exerted his best skill 
in their behalf, when, notwithstanding the efforts of his 
powerful friends, and a lavish expenditure of wealth, his 
advocates despairing of success, Verres went voluntarily 
into exile.* 

The humor of the orator, on this great occasion, is said 
to have been conspicuous; but Plutarch tells us that the 
cause was gained not so much by pleading, as forbearing 
to plead. Were we to judge from the specimens of Cice- 
ro's humor preserved to us, we should form no very favor- 
able opinion of his character, either as a wit or gentleman : 
and to us it seems, that his indulgence of it in the case we 
have in hand, was to the last degree exceptionable, and 
certainly adverse to the excellent rules he has himself in- 
culcated.! Caecilius, who desired to prosecute, was no 
doubt anxious to shield the culprit ; and was, for many rea- 
sons, the most improper person to be chosen. His preten- 
sions were contemptible ; and were, of themselves, a rich 
and appropriate object of sarcasm ; but the orator, after 
the severest assault upon these, attacks his religion, for he 
was a Jew, in a play upon the name Verres, signifying 
swine, of a particular description, among the Romans. We 
do not complain of the pun, for of that abused species of 
wit, we profess to be friends ; it is its direction we depre- 
cate, and should, at any time, deplore a state of things, 

*Tpse etiara Verres, desperato patrocinio, sua sponte, decederat in exilium. 

Asconius. 
tDe Oral. 297. 



28 SKETCH OF THE 

where an advocate is to be "jeered and scoffed for his reli- 
gion ; or for his belief in matters of faith and speculation, 
denied the privileges of a man, and cut off from those of 
a citizen."* 

The sarcasm of which Hortensius, the opposite counsel, 
was the object, is in better taste. He had received as a fee, 
an ivory sphinx, and when in reply to some enigmatical 
attack of his adversary, he remarked that he knew not how 
to solve riddles ; that is somewhat strange, Cicero retorted, 
when you have a sphinx in your House. — Plutarch. 

The prosecution of Verres, was a most important transac- 
tion in the life of Cicero, and tended powerfully to rivet 
the warm affections of the Sicilians, as also to extend his 
already great esteem at the bar; but though the cause itself 
was of the first consequence, and may be referred to with 
profit, we forbear, as foreign to our design, to give a more 
enlarged history of the crime, or of the efforts of the crimi- 
nal, to avert the penalty. They who desire to understand 
them thoroughly, may consult the arguments preserved, as 
also Dr. Middleton, who is full upon the subject.! 

The duties of a Roman sedile, originally a plebian officer, 
were various. He had in charge edifices in general, and 
the public buildings in particular; had a power to restrain 
lewdness and gaming; regulated prices, and overlooked 
the highways ; was the depositary of the public decrees, and 
the guardian, to some extent, of morals; and exerted a con- 
trol similar to that of a lord chamberlain in England, over 
plays and other productions of wit.} His office obliged him 

♦ Guthrie. 

f Howsoever often Verres may have trampled upon all other laws, Cicero informs 
na that he was exemplary in his obedience to those of the table ; which, if we believe 
Martial, must have been somewhat oppressive : as the king of the feast often obliged 
the guest to drink as many glasses as there were letters in the name of the person 
he pledged. Det numerum cyathis instantis litera Rusi. Mart. 8 ep. 49. Sex jubec 
Cyathos fundere ? Ccesar erit. Idem 9, ep. 73. 

X "It appears by an ancient scholiast on Horace, that Augustus instituted a sort of 
poetical court of judicature, consisting of five judges, the chief of which was Metiua 
Tarpa. They held their assembly in the temple of Apollo, and no poet was per- 
milted to bring his play upon the stage, without their approbation. Domitian seems 
to have improved upon this establishment, and extended it to an academy that dis- 
tributed prizes to those who excelled, not only in poetical, but prose composition, M 
Malm. Dae. sur la x sat du. 1, Liv d'Horace. Suet, in Dom. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 29 

to entertain the people with shows and games ; and both 
his integrity and fortunes, were not seldom wrecked by his 
magnificence. The supposed power of the patricians to 
indulge the populace in this way, was the original cause of 
their admission to this dignity; and they rarely escaped the 
costliest payment for the honor. The general convenience 
might have been, and no doubt was promoted, by the sedile- 
ship ; though whatever were its advantages, they would 
seem to have been far more than balanced by the effect of 
these immense largesses to the people; as in truth, the 
entertainments it made necessary, were concealed bribes, 
debauching the public mind, and leading, among principal 
causes, to the decay of patriotism, and to the tyrannies that 
ensued. It may be questioned whether Cassar, dazzling as 
is military renown, and potent as it is in controlling the 
suffrages of a free state, could, without these hidden bribes, 
have moulded the people to his will, or would have dared, 
in such a state, to hope for supremacy.* 

Up to this period, our orator had, we are told, religiously 
obeyed the laws, and made no charge, or took reward in 
any shape for professional service. He had, however, been 
made the heir to property, valued at ninety thousand denarii. 
Terentia, his wife, was rich, and Marcus the father, proud 
of his talents, and mindful of his honor, liberal : and we may 
therefore presume, that his expense in indulging the people, 
which he tells us was suited to his purse, if not magnificent, 
was creditable to himself, and satisfactory to them. The 
Sicilians had not forgotten him; but their supplies, such as 
they may have been, were given in bounty to the poor.t 

* We may form an adequate idea of Csesar's means of power, when we learn that 
he celebrated four different triumphs in one month, and that added to the largesses 
to the people, in wheat, oil and money, he prepared a feast where 22,000 tables were 
served with profusion in the streets, and treated them with Chian and Falernian 
wines. Both of these wines were of the costliest kind, and the first so much so, 
that the richest indulged in but a single goblet. 

f*'The Romans of the highest distinction consecrated their talents gratuitously to 
the service of their fellow citizens, as the protectors of innocence and virtue ; yet 
this generosity was not altogether disinterested. It was properly the instrument of 
their ambition: the people paid by employing them and honoring them in return: 
Subsequently, annual presents were made : to check which, the Cincian law was 
passed, forbidding the receipt, on any pretext whatever, of either money or presents, 

3* 



30 SKETCH OF THE 

The duties of his office do not appear to have so engrossed 
his time, as to preclude the defence of friends, when arraigned 
for public offences, or when involved in private difficulties. 
To have foregone these occasions of display in the great 
art he loved, would have cost him an effort; and, it may be, 
have moderated his desire of promotion to the trusts of the 
government. Happily, however, there was a compatibility 
between these and the duties of the bar, which, if not pecu- 
liar to Rome, is by no means general in our time. 

We do not at all marvel, that after the requisite interval, 
he should have immediately solicited the praetorship, or that 
he should so soon have raised his hopes to the supreme 
dignity itself: for, besides the fascinations of power, and 
his own great abilities, of which we do not doubt he was 
conscious, the demonstration of popular regard had been 
such, as to kindle ambition in a heart less warm, and to 
stimulate his love of glory, the pervading passion of his 
soul. After some delay, because of tumults in the city, he 
was declared praetor, and as was the case with his previous 
honors, unanimously. 

In its original, the office of praetor was designed as a re- 
lief to the consuls. The praetor assisted those magistrates, 
and exerted the highest judicial authority at Rome. At 
first, there was but one; their number increasing as the 
extension of the empire made it necessary. The praetor 
Urbanus, was so called from his residence in the city, and 
jurisdiction in cases at home, whilst his associates were 
either by the consuls or people sent into the provinces. At 
the expiration of their high function, a foreign government, 
limited at the pleasure of the people, was due to them. 



especially for pleading." A far different course prevailed under the empire: Tacitus 
Bays that "the advocates made a shameful traffic of their engagements, and that their 
treachery was offered for sale in the puhlic market." "Nam cuncta legum et magis- 
tratuum muniainse trahens princeps, materiarn prsdandi patefecerat : necquidquam 
publics mercis tarn venale fuit quam advocatorum perfidia."— Annal, L. 2, 5. And 
Juvenal represents them as affecting to appear in litters, richly clothed, and with 
great attendance, displaying while they pleaded, their hands loaded with rings, in 
order to be thought extremely rich, and to procure larger fees.— Sat: vii. 136. There 
was an ordinance of Charlemagne, which forbade lawyers, when they went to plead, 
to take with them more than thirty horses. -'—D'Arnay's Private Life of the Romans, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 31 

When Cicero was chosen, it was usual with the praetors, to 
determine their several jurisdictions by lot; and his fortune 
seems to have been suited to his character and talents ; 
as to him fell the actions of extortion and rapine, brought 
against magistrates and governors of provinces. 

Dr. Middleton mentions but one case in which he acted 
as praetor; where, however, he acquired great reputation 
by the condemnation of Licinius Macer, a man of high 
dignity and great eloquence. Plutarch tells us that "Macer, 
who had great interest of his own, and was supported be- 
sides, by Crassus, was accused of some default with respect 
to money. He had so much confidence in his own influ- 
ence, and the activity of his friends, that when the judges 
were going to decide, it is said he went home, cut his hair, 
aud put on a white habit, as if he had gained the victory, 
and was about to return, so equipped, into the forum. But 
Crassus met him, and told him, that the cause had gone 
against him, which affected him so much, that he returned 
home, took to his bed and died. Cicero was much applauded 
in this affair; for it appeared that he kept strict watch 
against corruption." Another! writer has it, that Macer 
died in court. The judge himself informs us, that he tried 
the cause with candor and justice, and reaped no little 
honor in consequence ; and is, as far as we know, silent as 
to the tragedy. — Ad. Att. 1, 4. 

We are now to consider an act, in which Cicero -was 
supposed, we fear not altogether without justice, to have 
been animated more by a desire of individual aggrandize- 
ment, than by the patriotic purpose he has so solemnly 
and eloquently avowed. Pompey had been in his youth, 
distinguished, and by Sylla named the great. Always am- 
bitious, his lust of power was at this time strong, and in 
spite of dissimulation, in which he was an adept, obvious 
to many. Already in command against the pirates, it was 
vnow sought by the Manilian law, to enlarge his commission, 
and to confide to him the conduct of the Pontic war — an 
exorbitant power, and, as we think, without precedent. 

t Valerius Maximus. 



32 SKETCH OF THE 

From Plutarch we may learn the vast authority to which 
it was proposed by the Manilian law to add. "Gabinius, a 
friend of Pompey, proposed the decree, which created him 
not admiral, but monarch, and invested him with absolute 
power. The decree gave him the empire of the sea as far 
as the pillars of Hercules ; and of the land, for four hun- 
dred furlongs from the coast. There were few parts of the 
Roman empire which this commission did not include, and 
the most considerable of the barbarian nations, and most 
powerful kings, were moreover comprehended in it. Be- 
sides, he was empowered to choose out of the senators 
fifteen lieutenants to act under him, in such districts, and 
with such authority, as he should appoint. He was to take 
from the questors and other public receivers, what money 
he pleased, and equip a fleet of two hundred sail. The 
number of marine forces, of mariners, and rowers, was left 
entirely at his discretion." Manilius, when it was under- 
derstood that the war against the pirates was finished, and 
that Pompey was employing his leisure in visiting the 
cities, proposed in a new law to give him "all the forces 
and provinces under the command of Lucullus ; adding, 
likewise, Bythinia, which was then governed by Glabrio. It 
directed him to carry on the war against Mithridates and 
Tigranes : for which purpose, he was also to retain his 
naval command. This was subjecting, at once, the whole 
Roman empire to one man ; for the provinces which the 
former decree did not give him — Phrygia, Lycaonia, Galatia, 
Cappadocia, Cilicia, the upper Colchis and Armenia — were 
granted by this, together with all the forces under Lucullus, 
with which he had defeated Mithridates and Tigranes." 

This law, though opposed by the best and wisest in 
Rome, prevailed ; and Pompey was substantially a monarch. 
Cicero, in upholding the grant, did not, as we have said, 
escape censure. His speech on the occasion, though far 
too_ prodigal of praise, was admirable, and is one of the 
most celebrated that he ever pronounced ; but although he 
is earnest in painting the exigency as demanding the extra- 
ordinary power he proposed to bestow, and although he 



LIFE OF CICERO. 33 

professes to think that the power itself, found sufficient 
sanction in precedent, we cannot escape a doubt of his 
sincerity. Dazzled by his hopes of the consulship, which 
he at all times avowed to be a leading object of his ambi- 
tion, and at which he was then aiming, there is good reason 
to think that he believed his purpose could be more easily 
effected by indulgence to the party of Pompey, than by 
adherence to Hortensius, Catulus and the senale, who were 
opposed to the grant: laudably jealous of the mighty and 
uncontrollable power it confeired : and it is difficult to be- 
lieve, that learned as he was, in the Roman constitution 
and history, and with foresight,* for which no human being, 
save a prophet, was ever more distinguished, he could have 
deemed it even safe, far less urgently necessary, to create 
a power, with no check but the probity of its depositary, 
and called for only by imminent and immediate peril, for 
the mere purpose of closing a foreign and a distant, but not 
appalling war. Nor in our view would the grant of so inor- 
dinate authority have been at all the more prudent, even 
were it positively certain that the name and presence of 
Pompey would have healed the dissensions in the army, or 
have forever disabled the enemies of Rome in the East ; for, 
throwing aside the injustice to Lucullus, whom the law 
stripped of his command, whose whole life had been a 
series of illustrious actions, who had performed the great- 
est in this very war, and had just baffled Tigranes, the most 
powerful enemy in Asia; exploits upon which Cicero him- 
self exhausted eulogy ; the law was vicious as a precedent, 
and may well be regarded as an early and no inefficient 
cause of the calamities which ensued, and which, as is 
known, resulted in the hopeless fall of the republic. 

We have no positive evidence of distrust on the part of 
Cicero, of the character and designs of Pompey, at the 
time the Manilian law was sustained ; and, therefore, only 
venture to condemn his support of it, as promoting a power 

*Ut facile existimari possit prudentiam, quodammodo, esse divinationem. Non 
enim Cicero, ea solum, qua? vivo se acciderunt, futura praedixit,sed etiam,quae nun« 
iisu veniunt, cecinit ut vates.— Corn. Nepos, 16- 



21 SKETCH OF THE 

clearly beyond the constitution, and incalculably more than 
commensurate with the exigency. It is far from folly, how- 
ever, to suspect, when we reflect upon his sagacity and let- 
ters written not long after, that even thus early Pompey was 
not, in his honest judgment, the immaculate being he pro- 
claimed him. If he did at this time, entertain the opinion, 
soon afterwards revealed, and did not confine its expression 
to his intercourse with his friend, there is no marvel that 
sinister motives were imputed to him, nor would all the 
matchless glories of his consulate, the high bribe for his 
defection, efface the stain. Mindful of his criminal devo- 
tion to power, at later periods of his eventful life, it was not 
more our duty, than anxious desire, to present him to the 
reader, so long as truth would admit, with integrity as spot- 
less as his dignity was eminent ; nor are we conscious that 
up to the moment of which we treat, stern justice herself 
could wound him with reproach. We close an inquiry 
which we have no disposition here to expand, with the 
earnest denial of Cicero himself. 

"I call the gods to witness, and especially those who pre- 
side over this temple, and inspect the minds of all who 
administer the public affairs, that I neither do this at the 
desire of any one, nor to conciliate Pompey's favor, nor 
to procure from any man's greatness, either a support in 
dangers, or assistance in honors; for as to dangers, I shall 
repel them as a man ought to do by the protection of my 
innocence, and for honors, I shall obtain them, not from 
any single man, nor from this place, but from my usual la- 
borious course of life and the continuance of your favor. 
Whatever pains, therefore, I have taken in this cause, I have 
taken it all, I assure you, for the sake of the republic; and 
so far from serving any interest of my own, have gained the 
ill will and enmity of many — partly secret and partly de- 
clared — which I might have avoided, and by which you may 
profit; but after so many favors received from you, and this 
very honor which I now enjoy, I have made it my resolu- 
tion, citizens, to prefer your will, the dignity of the repub- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 35 

lie, and the safety of the provinces, to all my own interests 
and advantages whatsoever."* 

During his praetorship, Cicero did not withhold his ser- 
vices from his friends, but shared as usual, in the criminal 
and other trials; and in one of themt we find him charging 
the mother of his client with crimes scarce to be believed. 
The unsparing pages of Tacitus present none more flagi- 
tious. Indeed Rome had long departed from her ancient 
probity and simplicity, and was now polluted by the fright- 
ful enormities so common under the empire. The crimes 
of Clodius were worthy of Caracalla ; and the black cata- 
logue of imperial monsters can scarce furnish a parallel 
to Catiline. 

About this time the orator attended the lectures of a 
famous rhetorician ; not, his partial historian Dr. Middle- 
ton supposes, with a view to learn any thing new, for here 
he deems him to have been perfect, but to encourage the 
professor, and to inspire the young nobles with ambition to 
excel. We are far from denying that he was capable of so 
excellent a motive; for in such things he was most com- 
mendable ; yet it does not seem to us improbable, that at 
forty years of age, he should think, that somewhat even in 
rhetorick might be learned. Besides, Suetonius, | whom 
the Doctor quotes, tells us that he was but one of a number 
of illustrious pupils to Gnipho ; who, as we conceive, was 
preeminent in his way, and either from a new mode of 
teaching, or from superior learning, was supposed able to 
impart a knowledge of his art, before unattainable at Rome. 
But of this enough. 

Having filled the subordinate offices with general satis- 
faction, Cicero now approached the period when all his 
toils were to be repaid by his elevation to the sovereign 
trust. To this, he had long looked with anxious hope, and 

*Pro. Lege Manil. 24. Cicero had not long before the passage of the Manilian 
law condemned as boundless, a power entrusted to M- Antonius for the mere in- 
spection of the coasts of the Mediterranean. In Verrem, 2, 3. 

tProCluentio,70. 

I Scholam ejus claros viros frequentasse aiunt: in his M. Ciceronem cum prcetura 
fungeretur. Suet, de clar. Grammat vii. 



36 SKETCH OF THE 

all, we think, should agree that he discharged it with appro- 
priate dignity and lustre. Before, however, we come to his 
consulship, there is one event which should not be overlook- 
ed. Catiline, whose character and dark designs have been so 
well told by Sallust, was charged with misgovernment and ra- 
pine in Africa. His crimes were of the deepest atrocity, but 
his dissimulation such, as to secure to him the support of 
many of the powerful and honest of the nobles : the rather as 
his own birth was illustrious. Cicero too, was so far his dupe, 
as to have well nigh undertaken his defence.* Frustrated 
in his first attempt upon the consulship, not being permitted 
under so heavy a charge to urge his pretensions, Catiline is 
said, thus early, to have leagued with others in disgrace, 
and to have contemplated not only the slaughter of the 
consuls with many of the senate, but a total subversion of 
the government itself.t The conspiracy does not appear 
to have been well matured at this time, and was for a season 
abandoned. 

Meanwhile Cicero, by soliciting votes in person, by a 
journey into Gaul, and by all the means to which a candi- 
date might honorably resort, was industrious in conciliating 
the favor of the people, and was, at last, to his singular 
honor, pronounced consul by acclamation : the ballot, in 
his case, being dispensed with.} Generally acceptable to 

* Pro Coelio— perhaps the most entertaining of all our orator's speeches. 

f Sallust, IS. 

% "Candidates solicited votes. Their relations and friends, their clients, and even 
senators of the highest rank, through affection or complaisance, accompanied them, 
and recommended them to all they met ; and as it was a mark of respect among the 
Romans, as among the Greeks, to call and salute people by their proper names and 
surnames, and scarce possible for a candidate to remember them, they employed 
slaves as nomenclators, whose sole occupation was to learn the names and business 
of the citizens, and to distinguish their persons at first sight, in order to inform 
their masters, who would then assume an air of acquaintance, shake hands and talk 
familiarly with them in the street. Thus Horace makes this civility necessary, to 
acquire new dignities." 

Si fortunatum species, et gratia prastat ; 

Mercemur servum qui dictet nomina, &c. &c— Ep. 6, L. I. 

Well then, if wealth alone our bliss ensure, 
Our first, our latest toil, should wealth secure : 
If pride and public pomp the blessing claim, 
Let's buy a slave to tell each voter's name, 
And give the hint, and through the crowded street 
To stretch the civil hand to all we meet. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 37 

the people, one other cause contributed to this extraordinary 
success. There was a large party in Rome hostile to the 
laws of Sylla. These, for the most part wise, were de- 
nounced as abridging the rights of the people ; and the 
memory of the monster was too green, to admit of their 
peaceful reign. The better sort, however, did not desire a 
change, and it was owing to the dreaded machinations of 
Catiline, with some of this party, and a general distrust of 
his designs, that the nobles, waiving all prejudice, sustained 
Cicero, as the man most fit to obstruct them. Hence the 
unanimity of his election. His competitors were of patri- 
cian and noble rank ; and it is well to mention here, that 
having been the first of his family, which was of the eques- 
trian order, to enjoy the public magistracies, he was for 
that reason, called a new man* and not, as many believe, 
because of obscurity of birth. Caius Antony was chosen 
with him. 



"The Fabian tribe his interest largely sways ; 

This the Velinian ; there, a third with ease, 

Can give or take the honors of the state, 

The consuls fasces, and the prator's seat ; 

According to their age adopt them all, 

And brother, father, most facetious call."— Fran.Hor. Pri.Life Rom. 

Cicero himself, in the height of his dignity, exerted his influence in behalf of 
friends. Ad. D. Brutum. — Ep. Fam. 

*Novi homines were those who had no right to keep the images of their ancestors, 
or use them in processions. Homines ignobiles were such as neither had their own, 
nor their ancestors' images. The designation "noble," was common to both patri- 
cians and plebeians : the curule magistracies, to which the latter were eligible, giving 
title to nobility. — Guthrie. Jifiddleton, 1. 149. 



38 SKETCH OF THE 



SECTION II. 



The great orator, scholar and statesman, now clothed 
with authority extensive as the empire, began his rule with 
the patriotic desire to promote its peace at home, and re- 
putation abroad. His first step was to weaken the existing 
cabals, and to ensure the cordial co-operation of his col- 
league. From this man, when made consul, the enemies 
oftiie state had much to hope; as upon strong grounds, 
he was supposed friendly to their worst desires. The tri- 
bunes had proposed to the people the creation of a decem- 
virate, with extravagant powers; its authority was to ex- 
tend throughout Italy, over Syria, and all the late conquests 

of Pompey. 

Antony was pleased with the law, and hoped to be em- 
braced in the list of the ten ; but was seduced from its sup- 
port by his colleague, who yielded to him the rich province 
of Macedonia, and thus appeased his avarice, the great 
source of his defection.* So effectual, we are told, was this 
lure, that afterwards, like a hired player, he would act un- 
der Cicero for the good of the commonwealth.! His col- 
league secured, in an eloquent speech to the people he 
next denounced the law, and not only succeeded in defeat- 
ing it, but gained other concessions unasked for. His in- 
tegrity and oratorical powers on this occasion, deserved, 
and have won for him, the warm commendation of Plu- 
tarch, whose praise is more valuable, as his general opinion 
of the man is not the most favorable. Indeed to the far 
greater part of the consulship, the enthusiastic admirer of 

* Collegam suam Antonium pactione provincial pepularet, ne contra Rempub- 
lucam dissentiret —Sail. Bell. Cat. 26. 

t Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 39 

Cicero may point with pride, and with no fear of rebuke : 
it was marked by wisdom, sagacity, love of country, and 
surpassing eloquence, and had he died at its close, would 
have alone secured to him immortal glory. 

He had now, so far as the distractions of the times would 
admit, succeeded in giving stability and efficiency to his 
administration; had weaned his associate from malpractices, 
and through his love of gain, made him faithful to his high 
duties ; by weight of character, and persuasive powers, 
had reconciled the discordant feelings of the senate and 
equestrian order, and infused into the public councils a de- 
gree of harmony then most rare. Animated by the purest 
love of country, as well as by his hopes of glory, at no pe- 
riod in the life of Cicero was the majesty of his eloquence 
more conspicuous ; and it is not often, if ever, in the history 
of mankind, that we have witnessed in a higher degree, 
the power of that divine art, in controlling human affec- 
tions, or when made subservient to virtue, in recommend- 
ing her sanctions to the adoption of states. We have al- 
ready seen with what success the law of Rullus, creating 
a decemvirate, was withstood. That was an agrarian law ; 
far more liberal than any of its predecessors, and like them 
most gratifying to the people. Under it, the commissioners 
were clothed with boundless power over the revenues of 
the republic, and might at pleasure distribute them. In 
short they commanded the money and forces of the empire. 
To the senate, and all the friends of peace, the proposal of 
such a law was ground of natural alarm : the consul par- 
took of it, and by a signal triumph over the tribunes, re- 
moved it. 

There is abundant proof of the wonderful power of 
Cicero's eloquence about this time. Otho, a tribune, had 
separated the knights from the common class;, allotting to 
them conspicuous seats in the theatre. The people were 
enraged, and when he entered the house he was received 
with hisses, and every demonstration of anger; and the 
utmost confusion prevailed to the complete interruption of 
the performance. Cicero, informed of the disturbance, 



40 SKETCH OF THE 

called the rioters to the temple of Bellona, and in an elo- 
quent reproof wrought so entire a change in their feelings, 
that the tribune was applauded and his act approved.* If 
not awed by the power of the consul, it could have been no 
ordinary eloquence to soothe the pride of freemen, attack- 
ed in so delicate a matter. Long accustomed not only to 
their pleasures, and to rule by their votes, but to partake 
largely of all the honors of the government, the senseless 
and aristocratic arrangement of the tribune must have been 
peculiarly galling. The speech not being preserved, we 
know not the reasons by which indignation apparently so 
just, was appeased. Dr. Middleton, however, on the au- 
thority of an old writer, tells us that the rioters were rebuk- 
ed for want of taste in interrupting so accomplished an 
actor as Roscius ; an argument which, though well suited 
to the people of Athens, we should not have supposed so 
effectual at Rome. 

Thus commanding with the people, the might of his elo- 
quence was seen in other quarters ; and here it made cap- 
tive, affections to which nature clings with more than com- 
mon tenacity. Sylla, in his rage, had excluded the children 
of the proscribed from seats in the senate and all pub- 
lic honors, and at this time there were many of exalted 
birth and equal merit consigned by that, act to obscurity. It 
was natural that the sufferers should press its revocation. 
They did so; but Cicero, fearful that when restored to pow- 
er, the memory of past wrongs would kindle a desire of 
revenge, and the public peace be endangered, yielded to 
what he believed the paramount claims of the common- 
wealth, and notwithstanding the clear reason and justice 
of the prayer, discouraged the petitioners, and actually 
succeeded in impressing them with his own opinion; 
though not without subjecting himself to an imputation 
with others of conspiracy against the constitution. We 
mention this case in proof of his extraordinary power of 
persuasion, and do not arraign the purity of his motive ; 

* Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 41 

it is not every casuist, however, that would authorize the 
denial of a claim confessedly good, from a mere fear of 
contingent evil, or go along with the consul in this matter, 
in his judgment of the effect of circumstances upon the 
attribute of justice. For ourselves, admitting his purity, 
we think that his wisdom may well be doubted. It is not 
easy to approve that "transcendental philosophy" which 
teaches to do evil that good may come. Many believe, 
and we profess to be with them, that it is uniformly safer, 
in reference to any contemplated measure, public or pri- 
vate, to inquire not merely whether it is politic, but whether 
it be just; nor can it be pretended that the demands of 
justice, imperative at all times, are ever more so than in the 
adjustment of political powers. It is there that justice im- 
parts enduring strength to such powers. Based upon her 
hallowed principles, they may become rich fountains of all 
public blessings ; otherwise, to content and happiness there 
are few so fatal adversaries. In the case in question, the 
claim of the proscribed was beyond all doubt constitutional ; 
and but for an eloquence scarcely ever to be looked for, 
and certainly not to be relied on, the denial of justice might 
and probably would have resulted in convulsion. Indeed 
in the absence of such eloquence, the injured parties would, 
in all likelihood, have furthered the conspiracy of which we 
are presently to treat. 

Doctor Middleton, in his defence of Cicero on this occa- 
sion, supposes him to have acted upon a maxim, which has 
come down to us in his book of offices, "that many things 
which are naturally just and right are yet by certain circum- 
stances and conjunctures of times made dishonest and un- 
just,"* and extols his wisdom in so doing. If the consul 
were in sincerity governed by this maxim, of which we have 
no means of judging, it is not right as Guthrie has done, to 
impeach his integrity; though in our view the maxim, when 
applicable at all, is only so in cases where the circum- 
stances divesting a claim of equity, are of a certain and 

* Sic multaquse honesta videntur esse temporibus fiunt non honesta.— De Ojjie. 3.25, 

4* 



42 SKETCH OF THE 

present nature, and not where they consist in possible or even 
probable contingencies ; in other words, though in the case 
we are considering, had the clear rights of the petitioners 
been conceded, the anticipated evils might have arisen, 
and though nobody doubts Cicero's wonderful foresight; 
yet we venture to think that this faculty, how admirable so- 
ever, is in no case to be indulged at the costly price of 
justice. 

The atrocious design of Catiline, suspended as we have 
seen, was not abandoned, and although it contemplated 
utter confusion, there can be no doubt that it had the good 
will as well as covert aid of some of the highest in Rome. 
Greedy of the sovereign power, he now renewed his attempt 
upon the consulship, and determined to kill Cicero in the 
tumult of the election ; justly dreading, that as long as he 
lived, and enjoyed the influence to which his character 
and eloquence entitled him, his own bad ambition must meet 
rebuke, and all his machinations fail. Besides, a late law 
of Cicero against bribery, aimed as he believed at him, had 
stimulated his desire of vengeance. His intention, how- 
ever, became known to the consul, at whose suggestion 
the day of election was deferred. Meanwhile he was sum- 
moned to answer, and did so with such matchless inso- 
lence, speaking so contemptuously of the senate, and 
hinting so clearly his design to put himself at the head of 
the people, that few believed him to have been falsely 
charged. Cicero, who according to Plutarch, was suffi- 
ciently frightened on this occasion, put on a coat of mail, 
and attended by a goodly number of the youth, repaired on 
the day of election to the Campus Martius, and exposed 
his armor to the people, who then believed him to be 
in danger, and highly incensed, again rejected Catiline, 
and made Silanus and Muraena consuls.* 

If we could suppose Catiline, at any moment from the 
inception of his terrible design, to have been capable of a 

* Cicero tells us in the speech for Muraena, that he put on that broad remakablt 
mail, not to defend himself; for he well knew that Catiline generally struck at the 
neck and head, not at the side or belly; but to alarm all worthy patriots. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 43 

repentant impulse, this last overthrow completely stifled it. 
Pompey being yet absent, he now thought it a proper time 
to give effect to the tragedy he meditated ; and relied in 
case of need upon the veteran forces in Italy. These, 
formerly commanded by Sylla, had long since lavished in 
debaucheries, the means which the liberality of that dicta- 
tor had afforded, and were now ripe for a change.* Man- 
lius, their present commander, sharing their feelings, was 
already in Rome, whither he had gone to assist the traitor, 
when suing for the consulship. 

The partners in the treason at home, were men of dis- 
tinguished birth, of no extraordinary talents, of broken for- 
tunes and profligate life. The great abilities of the chief 
hare at no time been in question. With consummate art, 
he had bound his associates to his interests, by catering for 
their several passions. To the "ambition of one, was held 
out the prospect of the provinces and command : to ava- 
rice, wealth: and to the voluptuous, the charms of leisure 
and of revels."! Thus leagued, their plan was this: Len- 
tulus, Cassius, Cethegus, and the other principal conspira- 
tors, were to remain in Rome, and Catiline prepared to 
head the forces abroad. Before his departure, he had so 
arranged that two of his party on' pretence of a visit, 
should murder the consul, who, however, averted the dan- 
ger, in consequence of information received through Ful- 
via, the mistress of Curius, one of the band. The time 
was now fixed for the execution of the plot; and it was 
not without good reason, that they who conceived it, 
cherished a hope of its success. A great part of the Ro- 
man youth was corrupted, many of the nobles by profu- 
sion were impoverished, and above all, a vast inequality of for- 
tune, at all times a fiuitfnl source of evil in a free state, 
had bred the desire of change. The consul, aware that their 
scheme was maturing, with admirable sagacity, by means 
of spies and otherwise, became master of the most secret 

* Sylla divided the lands around Fesulce among his soldiers, and advanced some 
of them to the equestrian and even senatorian order, 
t Sallust. 



44 SKETCH OF THE 

resolves, and denounced them to the senate ; whereupon 
that body clothed him with the power never conferred but at 
a moment of great peril, to see that the republic received no 
detriment. 

Catiline with wonted insolence had taken his seat, and 
made an attempt to repel the charge, "urging the want of 
likelihood that he, a man of illustrious birth, and whose 
past life as well as that of his ancestors, had given proof 
of his and their affection for the Roman people, should de- 
sire to subvert the government, while Cicero, a stranger and 
late inhabitant of Rome, should be so zealous to support 
it." The effect, however, of the consul's charge was such, 
that the senate would not listen to him, and judging further 
dissimulation unavailing, he withdrew from the devoted 
city, breathing slaughter and revenge.* According to Plu- 
tarch, he soon found himself at the head of twenty thous- 
and men, when hostilities thus openly commencing the 
consul Antony was sent against him. At a meeting of the 
conspirators it had been before agreed, that whilst Catiline 
was to attempt an insurrection in Italy, the city itself was 
to be fired, and a general massacre ensue. Lentulus was 
to preside in their black councils, Cassius superintend the 
conflagration, and Cethegus enact the butcher of the plot. 

The wisdom of the consul at this crisis, is not at first view 
manifest. Satisfied of the traitorous intent of Catiline, and 
knowing, as he must have known, that his power, though not 
equal to a successful struggle with the troops of the republic, 
was yet far from despicable ; all Tuscany and part of Cisal- 
pine Gaul being prepared for revolt, it does seem extraordi- 
nary, that he should not only urge his departure, but press it 
with most anxious eloquence. That in sparing the criminal, 
or in leaving him at large, with the walls of Rome between 
them, Cicero had his own safety in view, will admit of no 
question; but we can well imagine that in his honest judg- 
ment, the safety of the state, as well as his own, was se- 
cured by lenity. There was not a doubt acting upon his 

* In Cat. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 45 

mind, of great and extended guilt. To him, the conspira- 
tors and their dark purposes were known ; but he could at 
that moment, command no proof of their enormities; at 
least not such as would confound the numerous and power- 
ful friends of the treason by whom he knew the city to 
be infested; or silence the clamors of his personal ene- 
mies, who, if Catiline had been condemned in the then state 
of proof, would have arraigned his government as a tyranny, 
and have paralysed his best efforts for the good of the re- 
public. But Catiline, at liberty, soon revealed himself; the 
conviction of his guilt became, of course, universal, and the 
consul, by an union of all the honest, was then able effect- 
ually to wield the power of the commonwealth, for its 
own preservation. 

In his speeches to the senate and people, Cicero disclosed 
the grounds of his forbearance. "But there are some," 
says he, "in this assembly, who either do not perceive, or 
are unwilling to own, their sense of our approaching ruin: 
whose lenient measures cherished the hopes of Catiline, 
and whose incredulity nursed the infancy of his treason. 
Many, destitute of either wisdom or virtue, following their 
authority, would have said, that in putting him to death, I 
had acted in a cruel and a regal manner. Now do I per- 
ceive, that should he return to where he intends, the camp 
of Manlius, there is not a Roman so stupid, as not to see, 
or so wicked, as not to own, that a conspiracy is formed. 
His single death, I perceive, may for a while abate, but 
never can it extinguish this pestilence of my country. But 
should he eject himself, should he carry his accomplices 
along with him ; should he make that camp the common 
centre of his desperate, his now shipwrecked faction ; not 
only this pestilence of the state now ripened into maturity, 
but the very roots, the very seeds of all treason, shall be cut 
up and destroyed. True it is, conscript fathers, that long 
have we trod among the dangerous, the doubtful arts of 
treason ; but by what means has it happened, that in my 
consulate, the tumor pregnant with every guilt, with long- 
gathering rage and insolence, has ripened into breaking ? 



46 SKETCH OF THE 

But if from such a confederacy in treason, this one traitor 
only shall be removed, we may perhaps enjoy a short 
temporary relaxation from care and concern, but still shall 
the danger remain lurkingr in the veins and vitals of our 
country. As patients in the anguish of a disease, and 
parched with feverish heat, are at first seemingly relieved 
by a draught of cold water, but soon the disease returns 
w T ith redoubled force and pain; so our country, gaining a 
short interval of ease, by the punishment of this traitor, will 
from his surviving confederates, languish with more mortal 
symptoms : Wherefore, conscript fathers, let the wicked 
retire; let them sever themselves from the virtuous; let 
them herd together in one place : in short, as I have often 
said, let a wall divide us ; no longer let them beset the con- 
sul in his own house ; environ the city praetor, beseige the 
court with their swords, or lay up magazines of combustible 
balls and brands for firing the city. In short, let the senti- 
ments of every man with regard to the public, be inscribed 
on his forehead. This, conscript fathers, now I promise, 
that such shall be the diligence of your consuls; such the 
weight of your body ; such the courage of the Roman 
knights, and such the unanimity of all the wise and worthy, 
that upon Catiline's retreat, you shall perceive him and all 
his treasons, discovered, exposed, confounded and punished. 
Begone, Catiline ! begone with omens such as these, into 
an impious, an execrable war, and may its issue prove sal- 
vation to this country; desolation, destruction and death to 
thee, and all the associates of thy boundless guilt and 
treason. Then, then, Jove ! whose name Romulus con- 
secrated by the same rites wuth which he founded the city : 
thou whom we rightly call the stay of this city and empire ; 
thou shalt repel him and his accomplices, from thy altars : 
from the temples of the other gods : from the roofs and the 
walls of Rome, from the lives and properties of our citizens : 
then shall thy eternal vengeance, in life as in death, over- 
take all the foes of the virtuous — all the enemies of their 
country; all the robbers of Italy, and all who are linked in 
the mutual bands of treason and execrable conspiracy." 



LIFE OF CICERO. 47 

And again, on the next day, in a speech to the people : — 
''Great surely must be Catiline's perdition, and glorious 
our conquest, since we have forced him out of the charac- 
ter of a bosom traitor, into that of an avowed rebel. If 
any one accuse me that I did not rather apprehend than 
send away, this most formidable enemy, that, Romans, 
is not my fault, but that of the juncture. Death and the 
severest judgment of his country ought long ago to have 
overtaken Catiline: the practice of our ancestors, the jus- 
tice of our government, and the interests of our country, 
required me to put him to death. But how many do you 
imagine were there who would not believe what I advanced ? 
How many, who from stupidity, could not have thought it, 
and how many would have loved him for his wickedness."* 

In the mean time, Lentulus and the rest were not idle. 
It was agreed to divide the city into one hundred parts, and 
at a fixed hour, each was to be fired; the murder of the 
citizens was to be general; the sons of Pompey saved as 
hostages, alone excepted. In short, they had devised a plan 
of havoc and desolation worthy of Catiline. "In mercy, 
however, to mankind, his genius was absent;" the fate of 
the empire was debated over the bottle, without wile, and, 
as it would seem, recklessly. 

There were in Rome, about this period, ambassadors from 
the Allobroges, a people of Gaul. That province had been 
long and much oppressed, and it was thought that through 
the envoys the small remains of its loyalty might be shaken. 
They were accordingly approached, and emancipation ten- 
dered to their countrymen, if by commotions, they would 
further the conspiracy. But the shrewd barbarians, on ma- 
ture deliberation, resolved not only to withhold all aid, but 
to disclose to Fabius Sanga, the patron of their nation, the 
offers which had been made to them. The indefatigable 
Cicero, apprised by his emissaries, or it may be byt Sanga 



* In Cat. 1.2. 
f Cicero had certain intelligence of all Catiline's private deliberations, through 
Curius, one of the conspirators, whom Fulvia, a courtezan, had persuaded to betray 
their secrets. 



48 SKETCH OF THE 

himself, of the treaty with the ambassadors, and of their 
final determination, sought an immediate interview, and in- 
structed them to feign an approval of the scheme, as also 
to ask letters to Catiline, and such credentials as might en- 
able them, at home, more completely to meet the views of 
the conspirators. To this they assented, and at the next 
meeting, the reason of their demand was at once admitted, 
and the papers not only furnished, but accompanied with 
particular letters from Lentulus and others, slightly dis- 
guised in their import, and under the writer's own seal.* 
In a word, the documents were such, as if intercepted to 
threaten the hopeless defeat of the whole enterprise ; and 
thus, by the folly of these subaltern fiends, more exquisite, 
if possible, than their guilt, was the hideous catastrophe 
averted. 

In an arrangement with the ambassadors, a time was 
agreed upon for their departure, accompanied by Vultur- 
cius, a deputy from Lentulus to Catiline : and two of the 
praetors were commanded to provide an ambuscade at the 
Milvian bridge, where on the arrival of the party they were 
arrested, and their papers seized. Whereupon the consul 
convened the senate in the temple of Concord, and attended 
by a guard of the citizens, with the Gauls and the conspi- 
rators in custody, laid the whole matter before them. The 
evidence of the papers, in itself strong, was confirmed by 
the disclosures of Vulturcius, to whom, by order of the 
senate, a promise of reward and pardon had been given. 
The conspirators were themselves confounded, the belief 
of their guilt was general, and they were detained until the 
senate should decide upon their punishment. There was a 
delicacy in this matter at Rome, not known in our day, 
and it may well be questioned, whether her aversion from 



*In the time of Cicero, the seal served for a signature. The method of signing 
was introduced under the emperors. One day that a sentence of death was pre- 
sented to the emperor Nero, "Would to heaven," said he, "that I knew not how to 
write 'vellem nescire literas,' " with that tone of clemency and air of compassion, 
which he affected in the beginning of his reign. Augustus had a sphinx, afterwards 
an image of Alexander : Mecsenas had a fjog, and Galba a dog on the prow of a ship, 
as seals. — D*Jlrnay. 



: 



LIFE OF CICERO. 49 

capital inflictions, had not, in many cases, involved her in 
calamities, which a less clement code would have averted. 
The senate, it is true, had often claimed, and exercised a 
power, in alarming exigencies, of taking the life of a citi- 
zen ; but we do not know that such a power found a sanc- 
tion in the Roman constitution ; unless such may be seen 
in a necessity of state. There had been laws, moreover, 
by which the power of condemnation, in capital cases, was 
guaranteed to the people. By the older of these, they had 
an appellate, by the latter an original power. Hence, it 
was not without grave deliberation, and anxious doubt, 
even at the awful crisis now presented to the senate, where 
the guilt was manifest, and the crime imported no less 
than the general ruin, that the death of the criminals was 
determined. 

The eloquence of Csesar, on this great occasion, has 
been much extolled, and his opposition to the doom of 
death, relied upon as proof of his imputed friendliness to 
Catiline and his designs ; but to us it appears that his 
speech did but echo the feeling of the Roman people, as 
displayed in their laws: a feeling, which we know to have 
acted upon the senate, and would have controlled it, but 
for the imminency of the danger, the weight of Cato's 
counsels, and the eloquence of Cicero. 

Before the fate of the prisoners was determined, the 
senate, which seems to have well appreciated its vast obli- 
gations to the consul, by whose watchful care the state had 
indeed been preserved, decreed thanks to the man "through 
whose virtue, counsel, and providence, the republic was 
delivered from the greatest dangers, and resolved that there 
should be a public thanksgiving in Cicero's name, for his 
having preserved the city from a conflagration, the citizens 
from a massacre, and Italy from a war."* 

The great question of the punishment now came on for 
decision. The personal ease, as well as safety of the con- 
sul, would have been plainly promoted by clemency; but 

»In Cat. 3, 



50 SKETCH OF THE 

he would suffer no personal considerations to mingle them* 
selves with his determination. It was his settled belief, 
made up with pious regard to the happiness of his country, 
and to the rights of the offenders, that they were not fit to 
live; and therefore, after a profound and patient atten- 
tion to Caesar and the others who counselled imprison- 
ment, with confiscation of goods; with infinite address he 
avowed his opinion, and sustained by Cato, prevailed. We 
have already, we fear, too often departed from the design 
of this sketch, or should here have presented copious ex- 
tracts from this high debate. We refer to it, however, in 
further proof of Cicero's mighty power in the great art to 
which he owes so much of his renown.* 

The doom now fixed, the consul, fearful that new dis- 
turbances would spring from delay, proceeded at once to 
execute the decree; and Lentulus, Cethegus and others, 
were delivered to the executioners and strangled. The 
glories of Cicero, on this great day of deliverance to his 
country, his own proud expressions can scarce magnify. 
The homage to his virtue was universal, and all his cares 
approved : followed by the good, and wise, and great, the 
streets were illuminated, and resounded with his praise. In 
short, ail Rome joined in one great oblation of thanks and 
congratulations to her deliverer. 

The city saved from massacre and fire, ihe great chief of 
the conspiracy, hunted on all sides, was bravely contending 
in arms, for life and empire. As had been foreseen, on in- 
telligence of the total ruin ©f his party at home, his present 
hope was an escape into Gaul;t but again thwarted by the 
pervading care of the consul, who had thrown a force un- 
der Metellus into that province, his destiny seemed now to 
be accomplished. Never, in the language of a modern 
hero, | had a commander a more complete choice of difficul- 
ties. Shut up within the mountains, and driven at last by 
necessity, to fight, he preferred the consul Antony, though 
far stronger than Metellus, as his adversary; influenced, no 



* In Cat 4. t Ibid 2. J Wolfe. 






LIFE OF CICERO. 51 

doubt, by a hope, that in memory of past friendship, that 
general would not use his power to his ruin. It is certain, 
that Antony, either from a real, or feigned attack of gout, 
did not command: the army was confided to Petreius, a 
brave and loyal soldier: a struggle now became inevitable, 
when Catiline, fighting to the last, "armed with a glory 
high as his despair,"* died in battle. 

If we contemplate the Roman republic in the age of 
which we write, there is no difficulty in detecting not a few 
of the maladies of a declining state. These are discernible 
in a government, at no time free from elements of discord, 
unusually distracted; in the pollution of the elective fran- 
chise; and in the pride, rapacity and luxury, born of ex- 
tended empire and eastern gold. Near a century before, 
these latter stains had attracted the notice, and provoked 
the prophecy of the censor Cato. "I have often," he said, 
"complained before you of the luxury of the women and of 
the men, as well magistrates as private persons : you have 
often heard me say, that the republic was attacked by two 
contrary evils, avarice and luxury; two plagues which have 
overturned the greatest empires. The state becomes more 
flourishing from day to day, and makes continually new 
advances. Already have we advanced into Greece, and 
into Asia, opulent countries, and full of the incitements 
which can raise the passions : already have our hands reached 
the treasures of kings. But it is that very opulence which 
alarms me, at which I tremble. I dread lest the spoils of 
conquered enemies should be fatal to us, and we become 
the slaves of those riches which our arms have gained." 
"And it is not one hundred and ten years," says our 
orator, "since the laws against extortion have appeared 
among us. The first of these was established by Lucius 
Piso ; and before his time they knew not what it meant. 
But since that we have seen so many of -them, and one 
still more rigorous than the other, so many have been found 
guilty, so many have been condemned, so great a war has 

♦Ben. Jonson's Trag. Cat. 



52 SKETCH OF THE 

been raised in Italy, by those who feared the same fate ; in 
fine, avarice and violence surmounting law and justice, 
have committed so many extortions and robberies, on our 
own allies, that if we still subsist, it may be said to be 
more owing to the weakness of others than to our own 
strength."* To such vices in the body politic, the mind of 
Cicero, when consul, was directed : but Rome had reached 
that state, where medicine may alleviate, but cannot cure. 
It has been seen with what success he had reconciled, in 
some degree, the senate, with the body of the knights, and 
it was now that, to purify the elections, his law against 
bribery was proposed; by which an exile of ten years was 
made the penalty, and all shows of gladiators, within two 
years of suing for any magistracy, were prohibited. We do 
not doubt the wisdom of this law, and have more than once 
expressed an opinion of the debauching tendency of these 
shows ; yet there is some difficulty in reconciling its enact- 
ments with its author's very liberal defence of Muraena. In- 
deed it was a ground of Cato's charge against Cicero, that 
having passed the law to which we refer, his participation 
in a cause where bribery was a principal offence, was not to 
be justified. The orator, however, as we understand him, 
did not look upon Murasna's indulgence to the people, 
as amounting to corruption, within the range of the law 
in question. 

This speech for Muraena, as also that for Rabirius, was 
made during the consulship. One would imagine that op- 
pressed by cares of state at a moment of peril without 
parallel, a chief magistrate would have gladly withdrawn 



*Saepe me querentem, de feminarum, saepe de virorum, nee de pri7atorura mo- 
do, sed etiam magistratuum, sumptibus audistis ; diversisque duobus vitiis, avaritia 
el Iuxuria, civitatem laborare ; quae pestes omnia magna imperia everterunt. Hsec 
ego quo melior, laetiorque in dies fortuna reipublicae est imperiumque crescit : et jam 
in Graeciam Asiamqne transcendimus, omnibus libidinum illecebris repletas, et re- 
gias etiam attrectamus gazas : eo plus horreo, ne illae magis res nos ceperint, quam 
nos illas. — Liv. lib. 34, cap. 4. Nondum centum et decern anni sunt, cum de pecuniis 
repetundis a L. Pisone lata est lex, nulla antea cum fuisset, at vero postea tot leges 
et proximae quaeque duriores: tot rei, tot damnati, tantum italicum bellum propter 
judiciorum metum excitatum; tanta, sublatislegibus et judiciis,expilatiodireptioque 
sociorum, ut imbecillitate aliorum, non no»tra virluie valeam us .—Cicero de Offic L. 
2. e. 21. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 53 

from the contentions of the forum; and such may have 
been Cicero's desire; but the hour had arrived when there 
was need of all the legitimate powers of the government 
for its own protection, and knowing that a most salutary 
prerogative of the senate was assailed in the attempted 
punishment of Rabirius, who if criminal, was so in obe- 
dience to a decree of that body, the defence was the more 
readily undertaken as a duty enjoined by his dignity as con- 
sul ; not strictly, it is true, but in the large and liberal view 
which such a man may be supposed to have taken of his 
trust.* And in defending Muraena, who was consul elect, 
though at a later period, k like motive swayed him ; and it 
is a principal argument in his speech, that threatened with 
rebellion, it would be folly to deprive the city of a man 
who, from his great experience in war was exactly suited to 
the crisis. "But what," he exclaims, " will be the event if 
after baffling our endeavors, these dangers should recoil in 
the ensuing year? there will then be but one consul, who 
will be less employed in the management of war, than in 
the means of associating to himself a colleague; the bar- 
barous, the dismal pestilence of Catiline's rebellion, will 
take every opportunity of breaking out. It now threatens 
the Roman people; it will speedily streteh to the fields near 
the walls of the city : fury will take up her abode in our 
camps, fear in our senate, conspiracy in our forum, an army 
in our fields, and desolation in our lands; while the terrors 
of fire and sword shall haunt every place of our domestic 
retirement. Yet these mischiefs may be easily crushed, should 
the state have the full compliment of her guardians, by the 
wisdom of her magistrates, and the zeal of her subjects." 
Again: "Amidst these important concerns and imminent 
dangers, it is incumbent upon you, Cato, who are not born 
for me, or for yourself, but for your country, to weigh well 

♦Rabirius had a long time before, when the senate had ordered the consuls, &c. 
to see that the republic received no detriment, [ut viderunt consules nequid rep 
detrimenti caperet] killed, as was charged, Saturninus, who was declared an enemy 
to the Roman state; and the prerogative of the senate, endangered by the prosecu- 
tion was that, in virtue of which, the consuls, &c were clothed with the sovereign 
power referred to. 

5* 



54 SKETCH OF THE 

the matter now before you, to preserve your assistant, your 
defender, your associate in the government; a consul not 
ambitious, a consul such as the present juncture requires, 
whose fortune disposes him to cherish tranquility, whose 
experience fits him for the affairs of war, and whose abili- 
ties and spirit are equal to every purpose you can desire."* 
In- fine, we repeat that the admirer of Cicero may point 
to the consulate with pride ; and with highest exultation 
to that part of it, when with admirable constancy and wis- 
dom, his great faculties were devoted to the overthrow of a 
treason, menacing the happiness of mankind, and when as 
has been said of him he completely realized the prediction 
of the divine Plato, that " every state will be delivered of 
its calamities, when by the favor of fortune, great power 
unites with wisdom and justice in one person."! 

* Pro Mursena, xxviii, xxix. Muraena was charged by Sulpicius, whom he had bea- 
ten in their suit for the consulship, and by Cato, with a violation of the Calpurnian 
law, in encouraging the people to wait upon him when a candidate, in allotting seats 
to the several tribes at the shows of gladiators, and in inviting the people promiscu. 
ously to entertainments. This cause was distinguished not more for the uncommon 
dignity and integrity of the prosecutors, than by the high rank and eloquence of Mu- 
rsena's counsel. Hortensius and Crassus were joined with Cicero; and the story 
is, that the last was so anxious to eclipse the first, as entirely to lose his sleep the 
night preceding the trial, and to have in the argument appeared less than himself. 
The cause was argued in the year of Rome 690. Cicero in his 44th year. 

t Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 



SECTION III. 



Cicero had now won the proudest titles that can wait 
upon humanity. Rome rescued by his care from a great 
calamity, and hailed himself, by acclamation, her saviour 
and father, it had been well, certainly for his repose, and 
we think for his fame, if less greedy of honor, or less anx- 
ious for his country, he had withdrawn from, or more spar- 
ingly mingled in, her councils. Upon his consulship, al- 
most immediately, ensued dissensions afflicting to the re- 
public, terminating only in its downfall, and fatal to himself.. 
In these, the senate, in direct collision with the people, or 
rather with their aspiring leaders, a neutral course for such 
a man, was scarce practicable. With his great name and 
eloquence, his opinion and wishes could not fail to be re- 
garded ; and in fact, their weight and consequence were 
such, as to make his alliance a common object of desire, 
But to say the truth, on taking his seat upon the consular 
bench, although it may be, that in the outset, his whole 
heart was with the senate, and that in the integrity and 
wise exercise of its powers, he saw the strongest hope for 
the country, it does not appear, that his authority, great as it 
deservedly was, was at all times exerted, either to preserve 
the one or animate the other. Supposed by many of the 
ambitious to be hostile to all power, gained otherwise than 
through the ordinary forms of the constitution, he became 
at once an object of hatred and attack for those to whom 
that tardy process was displeasing; and when his rigor did 
relax, for his principles were far from inflexible, he was 
either the tool of prosperous faction, the dupe of superior 
cunning, or his interests and wishes had ceased to be im- 
portant. With confidence in the destinies of his country „ 



56 SKETCH OF THE 

much impaired, and professedly anxious to leave all cares 
of state, and turn himself entirely to philosophy, his ne- 
glect to do so, is only to be reconciled with an insatiable 
avidity for honor; a defect by high authority imputed to 
him, by himself in some degree acknowledged, and which 
his whole life discloses.* 

The enmity of the factious was apparent at the close of 
the consulship, at which time the expiring consul usually 
delivered an address and made oath of having discharged 
his duties with fidelity. On this occasion, however, as we 
learn from Plutarch, there were some displeased with Cice- 
ro, and inclined to do him all possible injury: and we may 
suppose that Cagsar, who was one of them, if not acted 
upon by envy, was desirous to lessen the authority of a 
man, whose principles, as he then thought, were the most in 
the way of his ambition. Be this as it may, assisted by the 
tribune Metellus, he succeeded in preventing the address; 
upon which Cicero, abandoning the usual oath, adopted a 
new one of extraordinary character, the purport of which 
was, that he had saved his country and preserved the em- 
pire ; t and though certainly chargeable with no excess of 
modesty, the oath thus modified, was warmly approved and 
responded to by the people. Caesar, nevertheless, already 
industrious in removing every obstruction in his way to 
sovereignty, at which he is said from his earliest youth to 
have aimed, and jealous as we have seen of the authority 
and principles of Cicero, was in no way baffled by this ex- 
pression of popular regard. He encouraged Metellus in 
all his vexatious attacks upon the late consul, whom that 
tribune was constantly reviling in his harangues to the 
people, as having when in power, deprived the citizen of 
life without the forms of trial ; but the authority of the 
senate still prevailing for his protection, a law was next 
proposed recalling Pompey, and declaring the presence of 
that general necessary to settle the disorders growing out 
of the temerity and despotic power of Cicero. t Happily, 

♦Plutarch. Sum etiam avidior quam satis est gloriae.— Ep. Fam. 9, 14, &c. 
j In Piso. Ep. Fam. v. 2. % Plutarch in Cic. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 57 

however, for him, as well as for the commonwealth, Cato, 
who was one of the tribunes, opposed and defeated it. 
Cicero had before made an attempt, through the women of 
his family, and particularly his sister who had married Pom- 
pey, to reconcile Metellus ; and was the more anxious to 
avoid a collision, because of his own close relation of 
friendship with his cousin, whom the reader will recollect 
as having acted conspicuously in the great affair of Cati- 
line ; and it was not until after all these efforts were una- 
vailing, that he attacked the tribune in the senate. His 
speech, however, is not extant.* 

About this time he was deeply mortified at the total ab- 
sence of all compliment in a letter he received from Pom- 
pey, to whom with no little care he had written an account 
of the conspiracy, and of his efforts to defeat it; and was 
greatly concerned lest that general, of whose influence he 
was again anxious to avail himself, should be prejudiced 
against him by Metellus, who had fled from Rome, and 
was now with the army. " In the mean time," he writes to 
Pompey, "it would not be agreeable to the openness of 
my temper, nor to the freedom of that mutual friendship 
we profess, to conceal what I thought wanting in your let- 
ter. I will acknowledge then, that the public service I 
performed in my late consulship, gave me reason to expect 
from your attachment both to myself and the common- 
wealth, that you would have sent me your congratulations ; 
and I am persuaded you would not have omitted them, but 
from a tenderness to certain persons. Let me assure you, 
however, that what I have performed for the preservation 
of my country, has received the concurrent applauses of 
the whole world. You will find, when you return 
hither, that I conducted that important affair with so much 
spirit and policy, that you, like another Scipio, though far su- 
perior to that hero in glory, will not refuse to admit me, like 
a second Lselius, and not much behind him I trust in wis- 
dom, as the friend and associate of your private and publie 
transactions." It is we think clear from this letter, and 
many incidents in the life of its great writer, that with him, 
* Middleton. 



58 SKETCH OF THE 

as with the generality of men, the quantum of reward 
which virtue is said to have in store for herself, had no very 
prominent share in animating his actions.* 

Up to this period, Cicero, assailed as we have seen, and 
exposed to manifold vexations, was yet, by his character, 
the memory of past services, and the authority of the 
senate, protected from other injury. It was now, however, 
his fortune to incur the resentment of a man, who with in- 
dustry, equal to his hate, succeeded at last in forcing him 
into exile. Publius Clodius, a man of illustrious birth, but 
infamous life, had about this time, added sacrilege to his 
other crimes of licentiousness, avarice, ill governed ambition 
and incest. He was enamoured ofPompeia, Caesar's wife, who 
is supposed to have encouraged his passion ; and to secure a 
stolen interview, was the object of his crime. Pompeiawas 
celebrating the mystic sacrifices of the Bona Dea,t to which 
no male creature was ever admitted, and where every thing 
masculine was so scrupulously excluded that even pictures 
of that sort were covered during the ceremony.J In the 
dress of a woman, and assisted by one of the maids, Clo- 
dius entered the house, but was betrayed by his voice, and 
with difficulty escaped. This outrage to religion, in one of 
her most awful rites, was soon known and indignantly re- 
sented. It was at once determined that the offender should 
be prosecuted, and after some difficulty as to the mode of 
proceeding, reconciled by a proposition of Hortensius, he 
was tried by the Prastor, with a select bench of judges. 
The defence was that he was not in Rome at the time of 
the act charged, and evidence to that effect was produced. 
This, however, was repelled by the testimony of Cicero, 
who swore that Clodius was with him at his house, on the 
very day. No one doubted his guilt; and his acquittal was 

* Few men have elevation of soul enough to love virtue for her own sake; but 

when she attracts the notice, and procures the favor of the prince, her natural 

beauty, secondel by reward?, resumes its rights in the human heart.— Plin. Pan. 45. 

f The Bona Dea was supposed to have been a dryad with whom the god Faunus 

had an amour. — Plutarch in Caes. 

X Ubi velari, pictura ju betur. 

Quaecunque alterius sexus imitata figuram est.— Juv. 6. 339. Sen. Ep. 97, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 59 

generally attributed to the venality of the bench, which, 
assisted by Crassus, the criminal had bribed. 

Pompey had now returned in triumph from the Mithridatic 
war; and we are told by Plutarch that there was a general 
dread of his designs in this height of his power. Many 
feared that at the head of his army, he would take the 
government into his own hands; and there can be little 
question that in such a scheme, he might have prevailed. 
All fears, however, were dispelled when he disbanded his 
army, and approached Rome accompanied only with a pri- 
vate retinue. He had added three kingdoms, Pontus, Sy- 
ria, and Bythinia, to the Roman empire, and left all the 
other nations tributary to the republic as far as the Tigris. 
Whilst abroad, in the career of his victories, he had not 
hesitated of his own will, to do much of an extraordinary 
nature, legislating for the whole east, parcelling at pleasure 
the vanquished kingdoms; building twenty-nine new cities 
or colonies ; and distributing to each private soldier a con- 
siderable sum, and to his officers in proportion. On his re- 
turn, his greatest anxiety was to secure a confirmation of 
these extraordinary acts; but though courted by the popu- 
lar faction, which promised largely, he was the more back- 
ward in coming into their views, when he found that the 
authority of the senate was much respected, and that Cicero, 
notwithstanding the representations which had been made 
to him, was still in the highest estimation. He, therefore, 
lost no occasion in public, to extol his virtues, whilst at 
heart he regarded him with envy. We may judge from a 
letter to Atticus to what extent this artifice had succeeded. 
Pompey writes, Cicero " caresses, loves, commends me in 
public, but all this he does in such a manner, as plainly 
shows that he secretly hates me. He has no good intentions 
towards the state: has nothing about him of the gentleman, 
nothing of the honest man."* 

In order to facilitate the ratification of his acts, Pompey 
now attempted with success, to procure the consulship for 
his creature Afranius, in every way unworthy of that high 

*Ad. Att. 1. liii. 



60 SKETCH OF THE 

trust, and upon whose elevation, none but a philosopher 
could look without a sigh ; * and in the election, was guilty 
of most open bribery ; fighting, as Cicero tells us, as did 
Philip of Macedon, who took every fortress into which a 
loaded ass might be driven. t 

We may form a judgment of the value of Cicero's coun- 
cils in preserving the authority of the senate, from the 
course he pursued at this juncture, in relation to a demand 
of the knights ; of which he himself speaks as scarce fit to 
be endured, but which he not only bore with, but defended. 
"The company who hired the Asiatic revenues," he writes, 
" complained to the senate, that through too great eager- 
ness they had given more for them than they were worth, 
and begged to be released from their bargain : I was their 
chief advocate. The thing was odious and shameful ; but 
there was great reason to apprehend that if they should 
obtain nothing they would be wholly alienated from the 
senate." Then, after stating that he had no great reliance 
upon the concord, which in this measure he professed to 
have in view, he adds, "but I have provided myself another 
way, and a sure one I hope, of maintaining my authority ; 
which I cannot well explain by letter, yet will give you a 
short hint of it. J am in strict friendship with Pompty, I 
know already what you say, and will be upon my guard as 
far as caution can serve me, and give you a further account 
some other time of my present conduct in politics."! Thus 
was Cicero, at a moment when every duty of a patriot en- 
joined that he should defend the constitution and laws from 
violation, in strict league with a man, whom he had a few 
days before denounced as void of all honest intentions to- 
wards the state, as no gentleman, and as shamefully pollut- 
ing the elective franchise by his briberies. In the letter we 
have given, the acknowledged cause of his union with 
Pompey is, that his own personal authority might not be 



* Consul est iropositus nobis, qucm nemo prater no9 philosophos auspicere vine 
■wpiratu posset. — Ad. Att .1. 13. 

|Ad. Att. J lb. 1. xrii. 



. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 61 

endangered. It is true, that when rebuked by Atticus, 
for even he was astonished, Cicero pretends to think 
that the safety of the state, as well as his individual dig- 
nity, was promoted by this friendship. 

Some may think it wrong to condemn his support of the 
impudent demand of the knights, as the importance of con- 
cord between the two highest bodies in the government, 
maybe supposed to have made it wise to sustain it; though 
it is certain that the undeviating patriot, Cato, thought 
otherwise, and prevailed to defeat it; but we can imagine 
no single motive other than a selfish one for the union with 
Pompey, which, strict enough before, became the closer 
when Clodius began to move in his scheme of revenge, and 
when Pompey, incensed by the opposition of the senate, 
found the increased importance of Cicero's services. 

Soon after this union the first triumvirate* was formed. 
Its object was the accumulation of all power, and though 
we have no doubt that Cicero abhorred its designs, yet, as 
the reader will soon discover, he was at no distant period 
its most effective ally. The union of Caesar and Pompey 
was cemented by the marriage of the latter with Julia, 
Caesar's young and beautiful daughter. Our orator had 
dissuaded the alliance of the chiefs, and writes about this 
time to Atticus " that Pompey introduced universal confu- 
sion, and that there was no evil which might not be 
apprehended from him. He manifestly aims at unlimited 
dominion. What other inference is to be drawn from his 
extraordinary marriage, the division of the Campanian 
lands and his waste of the public money." On reading 
this letter, the question naturally suggests itself, could Cice- 
ro forbear, as one of the sentinels of the state, to exert his 
utmost eloquence in averting the perils he deprecates ? 
There can be no question, as we think that such was his 
duty, at the hazard not only of his authority, but of his life ; 
and there is still as little, that the true patriots Cato, Bibu* 
lus and the rest, in the midst of the greatest dangers, did 

* Cawar, ?omp«y and Ciassus. 



62 SKETCH OF THE 

all that love of country could suggest, to check the growth 
of powers well known to be fatal; whilst he managed to be 
out of the way: retiring to a distant country seat. 

During this retreat he writes as follows to Atticus : "Tell 
me every tittle of news, and since Nepos is leaving Rome, 
who is to have his brother's augurate ; it is the only thing 
with which they could tempt me. Observe my weakness ? 
But what have I to do with such things, to which I long to 
bid adieu and turn myself entirely to philosophy. I am 
now in earnest to do it, and wish that I had done so from 
the beginning.' 5 * Every one, save Dr. Middleton, has it is 
believed, condemned this letter as dishonorable; we leave 
it to the reader without comment. 

Cicero, as far as history teaches us, in no one instance, 
befriended Rome at this decisive crisis, except in dissuad- 
ing the union of Pompey with Caesar; and not succeeding 
here, he appears to have, without the slightest other effort, 
abandoned in their greatest danger, the vital interests of 
his country; resting as we may suppose upon a favorite 
distinction, which enabled him to "bear with what he could 
not help, though not to approve what he ought to con- 
demn."! In estimating, as we shall hereafter, his preten- 
sions to the title of stedfast patriot, we should have been 
rejoiced to have given him the full benefit of his distinc- 
tion ; but we are at a loss to conceive with what propriety 
he could repose upon it, until by some effort at least of his 
prevailing eloquence, he found it to be applicable. Of that 
eloquence, he had himself no contemptuous opinion, and 
when fearlessly exerted had seen its saving power; and 
here surely, was a crisis, scarce less appalling than that of 
Catiline's treason, for its display. Why, it may well be 
asked, instead of retreating, did he not join the struggling 
Cato in resistance to a power to which he had himself, in 
every way contributed^ but which he saw, and indeed de- 

*Ad. Att. 2. 5. 
t Non enim est idem ferre si quid ferendum est, et probare si quid probandum 
non etU—Ep. Fam. x. 6. 

X Pro. Lege. Man. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 63 

clared, was now sought to be extended to unlimited domi- 
nion. Had he done so, though it is probable defeat would 
have ensued, his high duty as a senator and patriot would 
then have been discharged, and none could have denied 
him the shelter of his distinction. 

It is not easy to repress one's indignation when reading 
the letters to Atticus about this time in reference to the 
gallant and noble Cato. In the midst of his efforts to save 
his country, securing for him the applause of the virtuous 
to the end of time, Cicero professing the highest venera- 
tion, speaks of him as obstinate and wrong headed, and as 
acting as if he lived in the polity of Plato, not the dregs of 
Romulus.* It is very true, as some writer has observed, 
that it is better in human affairs to aim at that minor degree 
of good which is practicable, than to aspire to a perfection 
which is unattainable. Captious charges, however, against 
the patriot who aims as Cato did at the latter, come with 
but ill grace from the statesman who professes to find the 
former in passive obedience to atrocious faction ; especially 
when, as was the case with Cicero, as will soon appear, 
the objector's sincerity is on the strongest grounds more 
than questionable. 

Clodius was so exasperated when Cicero appeared in 
evidence against him, that he immediately resolved, if pos- 
sible, to effect his ruin. To facilitate this, his great object 
was to be made a tribune, and not eligible to this office be- 
cause of his patrician birth, he sought an adoption into a 
plebeian family, and succeeded. In this he was assisted by 
Pompey and Caesar, the latter having shown no desire for 
his conviction when tried, though his own honor was imme- 
diately interested; and assigning as a reason for the divorce 
of Pompeia, that his wife should not only be free of guilt, 
but of suspicion. The truth is the power of Clodius with 
the people was of service to his ambition ; a passion with 



*Dicit enira tanquam in Platonis 7ro\»Tu», non tanquara in Romuli faece, pen- 
tentiam — Ad, Alt. 2. 1. 



64 SKETCH OF THE 

Caesar, to which conjugal as well as all other feeling was 
subjected.* 

As tribune, by means of his illustrious connexions, an 
eloquence far from contemptible, the peculiar state of par- 
ties, and a succession of laws most grateful to the com- 
monalty, the power of Clodius, though justly obnoxious to 
the honest, soon became inordinate ; and the support of 
the consuls Piso and Gabinius was secured to him by de- 
crees, giving to them the richest provinces of the empire. 
Of the triumvirate Crassus was the avowed enemy of Cice- 
ro ; Pompey caressed both parties, and according to Plu- 
tarch, Caesar, provoked at Cicero's refusal to accompany 
him as his lieutenant into Gaul, and probably his enemy 
since the affair of Catiline, encouraged Clodius against him, 
and declared that he had been guilty of flagrant violation 
of all law and justice, in putting Lentulus and Cethegus to 
death without the forms of trial. This was the tribune's 
charge : and here it cannot be denied that the conduct of 
Cicero was unworthy of his character, against all philosophy, 
and in every way abject. He let his hair grow and went 
about supplicating the people, and when met by his enemy, 
who took care to throw himself in his way, was disturbed 



* There were at Rome various modes of adoption. That of which Clodius 
availed himself, was called Arrogation, and required the consent of the people. 
The form of application was : "Romans ye are entreated to consent that N. N. be 
declared to all intents and purposes of the law the son of N. N. as If he had been 
born to him in lawful wedlock ; and that he may have over him the power of life 
and death, as a father has over his own son. This Romans is what you are en- 
treated to confirm." The validity of such an adoption, as also of the simple one, 
depended upon several conditions: 1st. The person adopting was to be older than 
the person adopted: 2d. He was to have no children nor hopes of any : 3d. The 
honor, religion and domestic worship of the two families should receive no 
prejudice, and 4th. There should be neither fraud nor collusion, nor other end pro- 
posed than the natural effect of such adoption. If the college of Pontiffs present, 
ed no obstacle, it was referred to the decision of the citizens. In the case of Clo- 
dius, most, if not all these prerequisites were not only not gratified, but grossly 
violated. 

Dr. Middleton, on the authority of Suetonius, informs us that Caesar was so pro- 
voked, when Cicero in his defence of his late colleague in the consulship, who wag 
prosecuted about this time, complained so freely of the times and the oppression of 
the republic that he immediately favored the law for the adoption, and had it ratfc 
fied through all its forms in three hours from the time of Cicero's speech. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 65 

in all his applications, and pelted with dirt and stones. In 
his distress he applied to Pompey ; but that general, though 
he implored his aid upon his knees, was too far leagued 
with Caesar, whose beautifnl daughter he had married, and 
was inexorable. He next thought to remain and disarm 
the tribune by force, to which step Lucullus advised him ; 
but yielded finally to the entreaties of his friends and family, 
and went into exile ; a determination which he afterwards 
bitterly lamented, and does not scruple to impute to cow- 
ardice. The rage of his enemy not yet sated, he imme- 
diately procured a decree interdicting him from fire and 
water, forbidding all on pain of death to harbor or receive 
him, and making all attempt to recall him highly penal. In 
addition, all his houses were demolished, his moveables 
shared by the consuls, and to make the loss of his house in 
Rome irretrievable, the area on which it stood was conse- 
crated to the perpetual service of religion, and a temple 
built upon it to the goddess Liberty.* 

In that part of the life of Cicero in which Plutarch treats 
of his exile, it is hinted thatClodius was much strengthened 
in his efforts to ruin him, by the load of enmity incurred in 
the indulgence of his wit; and we do not wonder, from 
the specimens which that delightful author has preserved, that 
such was its result. It seems to have been indiscriminate, 
and levelled not merely at crimes and foibles, but to have 
sometimes wantoned with but little feeling, even where in- 
firmities of nature were its subject. We think, however, 
that the secret of his misfortune may be seen in the vast 
reputation he had secured by his unexampled services when 
consul, in his consequent authority at Rome, and in the 
absence of subserviency to all the men in power. How- 
ever devoted to Pompey, it does not appear that at this 
time he was willing by an alliance to have secured the 
favor or protection of Caesar, whose influence if exerted 
might have saved him, and who in fact mainly contributed 
to his banishment; and there isf reason to think that he 

dleton. t Ad. Att. 2. 3. De Provinc. Consular 17, 

6* 



66 SKETCH OF THE 

might have shared the empire with the triumvirate itself. 
The enemy, however, at this juncture of its designs, he 
was not only left by it to the rage and hatred of the tri- 
bune, but its own strength and influence were rather at the 
service of that demagogue. Hence, though we think that 
the union of Cicero with Pompey is utterly indefensible, 
and know it to have been prompted by no respect for his 
character, but rather from a desire to shield himself from 
the malice of those whom he was pleased to think his 
enemies : yet we cannot but believe that if his temporising 
course had not been confined to one chief, and had em- 
braced Caesar, his exile might have been averted.* 

But although satisfied that at this period his public cha- 
racter was comparatively untarnished, we have no intention 
to deny, that in this extremity, his unworthy tears and re- 
pinings were most disgraceful to his philosophy ; and are 
free to confess that the calamity and the terrors it excited, 
destroyed the balance of his mind; and that he was driven 
by his sufferings not only to an immediate and positive in- 
justice to others, but to all the subsequent irresolution of 
his life. In his letters, when abroad, we find him taxing 
his friends, and Hortensiust in particular, with the most un- 
principled motives in advising his retreat; denouncing his 
own folly, and even cowardice in yielding to their counsel: 
and yet afterwards extolling his withdrawal, as not only 
uninfluenced by fear, but as imperiously demanded by 
a paramount regard for the republick. In short we be- 
lieve that the leading frailties of his nature were com- 
pletely developed by his misfortune, and that after his re- 

* Pompey, Marcus Crassus, and Julius Caesar, all envied the glory Cicero had ac- 
quired by putting an end to the conspiracy of Catiline; for which reason Pompey 
suffered him to be banished by Clodius, when be might easily have prevented it. 
But when Pompey unJerstood that the senators and all the Roman knights were 
angry with him for negligence to succor a man, to whom he and the} had been so 
much obliged, and when he saw that the same danger threatened him from Clodius, 
he made a motion to the senate to recall Cicero, (though the Clodian law had ex- 
pressly forbidden any person whatever to do so,) and made mention of his character 
with the greatest reverence and honor.— Guthrie. 

f Me summa simulatione amoris, summa assiduitate quotidiana sceleratissime, in 
gldiosissimeque tractavit, adjuncto etiam Arrio, quorum ego consiliis, promissis, 
praeceptis destitutusin hanc calamitatem incidi. — id Quint. Frat. 1.3. 






LIFE OF CICERO. 67 

turn, there is in his connexion with the state much to la- 
ment and little to admire. 

His reception abroad was such as might have been anti- 
cipated. In some of the cities, mindful of his character 
and unequalled services, he was met with distinguished 
kindness, and even honors; but by others, and by indivi- 
duals greatly bound to him, his stay was either at once dis- 
countenanced, or his treatment suited to his fallen fortunes. 
Beloved of the Sicilians, their island was naturally selected 
as his resting place; but driven away by the governor, an 
ancient friend, the welcome of that people was unavailing: 
when, after some time spent in anxious doubt, he repaired 
to the province of Macedonia, where he passed the far 
greater part of his exile, unmolested by the governor and 
befriended by his quaestor. We learn from his letters how 
infinite was his grief in this extremity. He often complains 
that he was almost prevented from writing at all, by floods 
of tears ; and indeed he in every way far more than realiz- 
ed the truth of that sentiment of the moralist, " that in the 
hour of deep distress, and under the pressure of severe 
afflictions the philosopher and the peasant are nearly upon 
a level."* 

An illustrious nobleman of the past age who suffered a 
like calamity, has well described the bearing of our orator 
in exile. "This great man," says Bolingbroke, "who 
had been the saviour of his country, who had feared in the 
support of that cause neither the insults of a desperate 
party nor the daggers of assassins, when he came to suffer 
from the same cause, sunk under the weight. He dishon- 
ored that banishment which indulgent providence meant to 
be the means of rendering his glory complete. Uncertain 
where he should go, or what he should do, fearful as a wo- 
man, and froward as a child, he lamented the loss of his 
rank and splendid popularity. His eloquence served only 
to paint his miseiy in stronger colors. He wept over the 
ruins of his fine house which Clodius had demolished, and 
his separation from Terentia, whom he repudiated not long 

* Watson's Evidences. 



68 SKETCH OF THE 

after, was perhaps an affliction to him at this time. Every 
thing becomes intolerable to the man, who is once subdued 
by grief. He regrets what he took no pleasure in enjoying, 
and overloaded already, he sinks at the weight of a feather. 
Cicero's behavior in short, was such that his friends, as well 
as enemies, believed him to have lost his senses. Cassar 
beheld with a secret satisfaction the man who had refused 
to be his lieutenant, weeping under the rod of Clodius, 
Pompey hoped to find some excuse for his own ingratitude 
in the contempt to which the friend whom he had aband- 
doned, exposed himself. Nay, Atticus judged him too 
nearly attached to his former fortunes and reproached him 
for it. Atticus, even Atticus, blushed for Tully, and the 
most plausible man alive assumed the style of Cato." # 

We can have no pleasure in dwelling upon the "little- 
ness of spirit which Cicero discovered in his banishment 
unworthy a man that had enjoyed such opportunities of cul- 
tivation from letters and philosophy; "t and we, therefore, 
hasten to his return. Could any doubt exist, that without 
powerful aid, independent of his own control with the peo- 
ple, the enraged tribune could never have forced his enemy 
from Rome, it would be dispelled by the circumstances 
attending his return. Clodius, proud of his success, and 
too confident of his power, had attacked the patricians, and 
attempted to annul some of the acts of Pompey himself, 
and about this time incurred the anger of that general, to 
whose connivance he was mainly indebted for his influence, 
by the seizure of a son of king Tigranes, detained a prisoner 
in Rome. By this affront, Pompey was roused to exert 
himself in Cicero's behalf, and after repeated efforts, 
though often frustrated by the indefatigable tribune, a de- 
cree passed the senate, and being confirmed by the people 
with circumstances of unusual honor, the exile returned in 
triumph. 

Cicero's own account of his return, though much inflated, 
is strictly true. So enchanted were the people at his recall 

* Reflec. on Exile, 253. * Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 69 

that when it was known that he was approaching, ''all his 
route," he tells us, "from Brundusium to Rome, was lined 
with a continued file of the different people of Italy. 
There was no district," he adds, "no city, which sent not 
deputations to congratulate me. What shall I say of the 
manner of my reception on my arrival at every place ? how 
from the cities and from the villages, fathers of families with 
their wives and children, either went before me, or appear- 
ed on the road to testify their joy ? What shall I say of 
the festivals that were celebrated on my account, with as 
much gladness and pomp, as those which are consecrated 
to the immortal gods ? But above all, the day that I en- 
tered Rome; that day alone is worth an immortality. On 
that day, I had the senate and the whole people, receive me 
without the gates of Rome ; and Rome herself, shaking 
from her foundations, seemed to advance to embrace her 
preserver. One would have said that not only the men and 
women, of all ages, of every rank and condition, but the 
walls themselves and the temples entered into transports of 
joy at my approach." And again : "The whole procession 
was so triumphant from beginning to end, that I had reason 
to fear, lest people should imagine that I myself had con- 
trived my late flight for the sake of so glorious a restora- 
tion."* 

On his return, Cicero, in the senate and before the peo- 



* In Pis. Pro Dom. 28. "When any magistrate of distinction returned from his 
province, they thronged out of the city in crowds to receive him; and they attended 
him to his house, adorning the avenues to it with verdure and festoons. They 
crowded also to meet an illustrious exile when he was recalled. It was in some 
sort to make reparation for the injustice they had done him. Metellus Numidicus 
driven from Rome by the faction of Marius, because of his firmness and rectitude, 
having been recalled from exile, where he lived always equal to himself, when it 
was known he was near arriving, the senate and the people, the rich and the poor, in a 
word, the whole city hastened to meet him: in so much, as an historian says, that 
no dignity nor triumph ever did him more honor than did the very cause of hia 
exile, the wisdom of his conduct while in it, and lastly the glory of his return," 
[Pri. Life. Rom.] Demosthenes was not equal to himself in exile, into which un» 
like Cicero, he was deservedly sent. His return, like that of the Roman, v/as tri- 
umphant. "Happier," says he, "was my return than that of Alcibiaaes. It waa 
through compassion that the Athenians restored him, but me they have reealled 
through a motive of kindness." The whole body of the citizens went to rueethia 
galley and congratulate him,— Plut. in Dcm, 



70 SKETCH OF THE 

pie, was profuse in thanks to all those who had in any way 
contributed to his recall ; and prompted, as is said, by fer- 
vent gratitude to Pompey, pronounced him "the greatest 
man for wisdom, virtue, glory, who was then living or had 
lived, or ever would live, and declared that he owed more 
to him, on that occasion, than was lawful almost for one 
man to owe another."* It had been well for his country 
and for himself, had his tribute to this friend been limited 
to praise ; but now, were strikingly displayed, the timidity 
and irresolution, to use no harsher phrase, which marked 
his after life, which we believe to have been natural to him, 
and which, as we have surmised, were developed by his 
exile. One would imagine from his acts at the time of his 
return, and for a long time afterwards, that he lived but for 
Pompey and his friends. There was at this period a 
scarcity of corn, and it was chiefly through his means, 
that to provide relief, Pompey was entrusted with a com- 
mission far more than commensurate with the distress, and 
eminently dangerous in the then state of Rome, as fami- 
liarizing the people with absolute power in one man, and as 
leading in consequence to a contempt of the authority of 
the senate. Not long after another grant was made to 
Pompey, giving to him proconsular power for five years, 
throughout the whole Roman dominions. Cicero, though 
he acknowledged that this last act was a power too exorbi- 
tant in a free state,! suffered it to pass in silence, and con- 
fessedly upon the ground, that the pontifical college had 
not determined upon the validity of Clodius's consecration 
of his area, and that Pompey might influence its decision. 
If at any one moment the authority of the senate should 
have been protected, it was at that particular juncture ; and 
this he must have known and felt, if familiar with, and 
opposed as he is said to have been, to the designs of the 
triumvirate. In adding to the power of Pompey, he gave 
great color to the charge of Clodius, that he was ungrate- 
fully deserting the senate, to make his court to the man 

* Post red, ad Cluir. 7. f Ad Sul. et Caec. et Tor.— Ep> Fam. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 71 

who had betrayed him. Be this so or not, and we incline 
to believe it, it is in feeding a power he knew to be danger- 
ous, that we see cause of blame; and cannot suppose him 
so senseless as to have thought that the authority of the 
senate was unaffected by such grants. Indeed we have his 
own admission that it was otherwise.* 

Nor, as we have said, was his gratitude confined in its 
munificence to Pompey. Soon after the grants to that 
general, we see another extraordinary concession to Caesar, 
made principally through the influenee of Cicero. Caesar 
was then in Gaul, and had written to the senate, requesting 
a variety of extravagant powers, as well as the prolongation 
of his command. The demand was thought exorbitant, 
and was disgusting to the old patriots; but our orator sus- 
taining it, was assented to. In another matter, he had suc- 
ceeded in frustrating for a time, a project of Caesar to divide 
the Campanian lands among the poor citizens; from a con- 
viction that it was not expedient,! and with a knowledge, 
we doubt not, that Caesar's view was to enhance his already 
alarming power. His independent course on this occasion, 
was highly pleasing to the enemies of the triumvirate, who 
derived from it a hope, that a breach would ensue between 
him and Pompey; yet on the first remonstrance of Caesar, 
backed by the entreaties of his son-in-law, he determined 
at once to drop the affair in dread of their joint resentment. 
In ceasing to oppose this division of land, Cicero writes, 
"I could not but think that having performed and suffered 
so much for my country, that I might now, at least, be per- 
mitted to consider what was due to gratitude, and to the honor 
of my brother: and as I had ever conducted myself with in- 
tegrity towards the public, I might be allowed, I hope, to 
act the same honest part in my more private connexions." 
Such a reason is discountenanced in other parts of his 
works, and has indeed met his positive condemnation.! 

* Ep. Fam. ad Sul. et Caec. et Torq. 
| Middleton, 2. 52. 54. 
X Hsc prima lex in amicitia sanciatur, ut neque rogemus res turpes, nee faceainvf 
rogati.— Ds Amicitia, cap. 12. 



72 SKETCH OF THE 

For ourselves, we have no difficulty in believing with 
Melmoth, that fear determined this change in his conduct, 
and that having once suffered in the cause of liberty, he 
was not disposed to be twice a martyr; the rather as we 
know that he had condemned this very measure as a scheme 
formed for the destruction of the commonwealth.* Again, 
in allusion to this extraordinary change, he observes, "that 
he had no reason to apprehend a charge of inconstancy, 
if on some occasions he voted and acted a little differently 
from what he used to do, in complaisance to such a friend; 
that his union with Pompey, necessarily included Caesar, 
with whom he and his brother had a friendship of long 
standing, which they were invited to renew by all manner 
of civilities and good offices, freely offered on Caesar's part: 
that after Caesar's great exploits, the republic itself seemed 
to interpose and forbid him to quarrel with such men."t 

Not content with upholding Caesar's acts, which his judg- 
ment confessedly condemned, he wrote about this time a 
poem in his praise ; and we present a letter to Atticus, in re- 
lation to it, in further proof of his complaisance to a man, 
of whose inordinate and bad ambition he had not a doubt. 
He excuses his omission to send the poem, on the ground 
that Caesar pressed to have it, and that he had reserved no 
eopy ; though to confess the truth, he says, "he found it 
very difficult to digest the meanness of recanting his old 
principles. But adieu to all right true honest councils; it 
is incredible what perfidy there is in those who want to be 
leaders; and who really would be so, if there was any faith 
in them." And after further animadversion upon those 
with whom he had acted, he adds, "But since those who 
have no power, will not love me, my business is to acquire 
the love of those who have; you will say, I wish that you 
had done it long ago; I know you wished it, and I was a 
mere ass for not minding you."t 

No one, on reading the letter, part of which follows, 
can be surprised that a man with such views, should lend 

• Ad. Alt. 2. 17. f Ep. Fain. 1.9. t Ad . Att, ir. r. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 73 

himself to power. It was written a short time after having 
sustained the exorbitant demands of Caesar, in relation to 
his government of Gaul. That "the state and form of the 
government was quite changed, and what he had proposed 
to himself as the end of all his toils, a dignity and liberty of 
acting, quite lost and gone: that he had dropped, therefore, 
all thoughts of that old consular gravity and character of a 
resolute senator, and resolved to conform himself to Pom- 
pey's will ; that his great affection for Pompey made him 
begin to think all things right which were useful to him." 
And it would seem from another part of this letter, that he 
thought himself obliged to remain in public life, though anx- 
ious to withdraw, for the sole purpose of promoting Pom- 
pey's wishes; "or else what of all things he most desired, 
if his friendship with Pompey would permit him to retire 
from public business, and give himself wholly up to books." 
Again he says, "you are sensible, nevertheless, how difficult 
it is to renounce our old and habitual notions of politics, 
especially under a full sense of their rectitude.* 

The exploits of Cassar had now nearly raised him to a 
level in point of authority with Pompey, and it was agreed 
upon by the triumvirate, which was nothing less than a 
traitorous "conspiracy of three of the most powerful citi- 
zens in Rome, to extort from their country by violence, 
what they could not obtain by law;"t that Pompey and 
Crassus should seize upon the consulship for the next year, 
though they had not declared within the usual time. In the 
disorders ensuing upon so irregular an attempt, Cicero 
managed to be out of the way; and writes thus to Atticus 
of his determination as to the course he should pursue. 
As usual, power, however atrocious, was to prevail with him. 
"Shall I withdraw myself then," says he, "from business, 
and retire to the port of ease? That will not be allowed to 
me. Shall I follow these leaders, and having refused to 
command, submit to be commanded? I will do so: for I 
see that it is your advice, and wish that I had always fol- 

*Ep. Fam. 1.9. fMiddleton. 



74 SKETCH OF THE 

lowed it ; or shall I resume my post, and enter again into 
affairs ? I cannot persuade myself to that, but begin to 
think Philoxenus in the right, who chose to be carried back 
to prison rather than commend the tyrant's verses. This is 
now what I am meditating : to declare my dislike, at least, 
of what they are doing."* We shall soon discover how far 
the dithyrambic poet was his model. 

Gabinius and Cicero were upon the worst terms ; and 
between him and Crassus there was any thing but a rela- 
tion of friendship. They had disliked each other since the 
conspiracy of Catiline, and their animosity was now re- 
kindled by a debate in the senate, relating to Gabinius, in 
which Crassus, as his friend, had indulged in the severest 
reflections upon Cicero. Here, as in the affair of the Cam- 
panian lands, the enemies of the triumvirate had great hopes 
that Cicero would be embroiled with it. Most of the chiefs 
of the senate were, for this reason, delighted at the quarrel; 
but again yielding to the omnipotent prayer of Pompey and 
his father in law, he was soon reconciled to their partner 
Crassus; with what zeal r we may judge from the substance 
of a letter to Crassus, whilst absent, in the fatal war against 
Parthia. After an account of the debate, in which he had 
sustained his demands, he tells him that he had given proof 
to the whole city, of the sincerity of his reconciliation, as- 
sures him of his resolution to serve him, with all his pains, 
authority, interest, in every thing great or small, which con- 
cerned himself, his friends, or clients ; and bids him look 
upon his letter, as a league of amity, which on his part 
should be inviolably preserved.! Thus was Cicero in strict 
amity with all three of the worst enemies of Rome, having 
been long the ardent friend of Pompey, for some time en- 
gaged in a correspondence of particular intimacy with Cae- 
sar, and now reconciled to Crassus. t 

But we are yet to notice the strongest instances of span- 

*Ad. Att. iv. v. fEp. Fam 5, viii. 

% After the death of Crassus, Cicero published an oration, charging him with a pas- 
ticipation in the conspiracy of Catiline, and had before spoken of him in terms of the 
utmost contempt, to Atticus. Ad. Att. 4. xiii. We have no doubt that he hated the 
father, who, as is known , was killed in this expedition ; but there seems to have been 
a. mutual and sincere friendship between him and the son, who also fell in Parthia. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 75 

iel dovotion to Pompey. Vatinius, in every way profligate, 
and particularly fierce in his enmity to Cicero, was now 
accused of plundering the province of Sardinia. Of this 
man he had before said that no one could look upon him 
without a sigh, or speak of him without execration; that he 
was the dread of his neighbors, the disgrace of his kindred, 
and the utter abhorrence of the public in general: nor was 
he alone in this estimate of his character; others have rep- 
resented him as a prodigy of vice and worthlessness; yet as 
Pompey befriended him, in opposition to the patriot Cato, 
who without success, sued for the prastorship, with Vatinius 
as his competitor, Cicero did not hesitate to prostitute his 
eloquence in his defence. 

There were also many accusations against Gabinius, on 
his return from his province. The first indictment charged, 
that in defiance of religion, and a decree of the senate, he 
had restored the king of Egypt with an army, leaving his 
own province, Syria, naked.* Br. Middleton tells us that 
Cicero had been long deliberating whether he should not 
himself accuse Gabinius; and to us it seems, that there was 

*It was discovered by those who were opposed to the restoration of the Egyptian 
monarch, tli3t there was a prophecy of the Sibyl which forbade his restoration with 
an army. Ptolemy, wearied out by so long a delay, withdrew from Rome. Pom- 
pey advised him to apply to Gabinius, then proconsul of Syria, who was of infamous 
character, and would do any thing for money. Bribed by the king with 10,000 tal- 
ents, against the positive order of the senate, not to leave his province without per- 
mission, Gabinius restored him. Lentulus, governor of Cyprus and Cilicia, who had 
been the active friend of Cicero in the affair of his recall, was desirous of being cho 
een to restore this king ; and Cicero was his friend in the senate. It is remarkable 
that in one of his letters he advises him, against the oracle and will of the senate, if 
he was well satisfied of his being able to render himself master of Egypt, not to de- 
lay his march for a moment : "but if," he writes, "you are doubtful of success, it is 
our advice [Pompey was with him in the advice] that you by no means make thB 
attempt;" and also says, "we deem it necessary to add, that we are sensible the 
world will judge of the propriety of this scheme, entirely by the event. Should it 
succeed as we wish, your policy and resolution will be universally applauded, and 
on tie other hand, should it miscarry, it will undoubtedly be condemned as an ao» 
tion of ill considered and unwarrantable ambition."— Ep. Fam. 1. 7. But what has 
well elicited surprise is, that Cicero should afterwards, in one of his philippics, de- 
nounce conduct in Antony, who was one of the advisers of Gabinius, exactly similar 
to that which he urges upon Lentulus. "Inde iter ad Alexandriam contra senatua 
auctoritatem, contra rempublicametreligiones." He also in the speech against Piso, 
abuses Gabinius in no measured terms, for the act in question. Indeed, Cicero wag 
no way backward, if it suited an emergency, to condemn and approve the very 
seme transaction, 



76 SKETCH OF THE 

in truth, but little cause of hesitation; as he had no doubt 
of his guilt, and was in this first stage of the proceeding 
himself a witness against him. Besides, he had received 
from him every provocation which one man could receive 
from another. Gabinius escaped this charge, but was soon 
after tried for the plunder of his province; and one would 
suppose that Cicero would have been the last to defend a 
man, whom he detested, and who had often in every possi- 
ble manner provoked and injured him.* Yet even here, the 
power of Pompey and his later friend, prevailed. "Pom- 
pey," says he, "labors hard with me, but has yet made no 
impression, nor if I retain a grain of liberty, ever will." 
The impression, however, was made, and the defence un- 
dertaken. We know nothing more loathsome in his accu- 
mulated concessions; and see nothing justificatory in the 
reasons he urges for his general conduct, in the apologe- 
tical letter to Lentulus. Such reasons might well have 
weighed with him, as with any honest man, in not exaspe- 
rating an irresistible power; but do not we think authorise 
so absolute homage, far less addition to such power. 4 'The 
union," he writes, "of all the honest which subsisted when 
you left Rome, confirmed by my consulship, and revived by 
yours, is now quite broken and deserted by those who ought 
to have supported it, and were looked upon as patriots: for 
which reason, the maxims of all wise citizens, in which class 
I always wished to be ranked, ought to be changed too; for 
it is a precept with Plato, whose, authority has the greatest 
weight with me, to contend in public affairs, as far as we 
can persuade our citizens, but not to offer violence either 
to our parent or our country. If I was quite free from all 
engagements, I should act, therefore, as I now do ; should 
not think it prudent to contend with so great a power; nor 
if it could be effected, to extinguish it in our present cir- 
cumstances; nor continue always in one mind, when the 
things themselves, and the sentiments of the honest are al- 
tered ; since a perpetual adherence to the same measures, 
has never been approved by those who know best how to 

* Gabinius had assisted Clodius in banishing him. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 77 

govern states; but as in sailing, it is the business of art to 
be directed by the weather, and foolish to persevere with 
danger in the course in which we set out, rather than by 
changing it to arrive with safety, though later, where we in» 
tended: so to us who manage public affairs, the chief end 
proposed being dignity with public quiet, our business is 
not to be always saying, but always aiming at the same 
thing: wherefore, if all things, as I said, were wholly free 
to me, I should be the same man that I now am; but when 
I am invited to this conduct, on the one side, by kindness, 
and driven to it on the other by injuries, I easily suffer my- 
self to vote an act what I take to be useful both to myself 
and the republic : and 1 do it the more freely, as well on the 
account of my brother's being Caesar's lieutenant, as that 
there is not the least thing which I have ever said or done 
for Caesar, but that he has repaid with such eminent grati- 
tude as persuades me that he takes himself to be obliged to 
me. So that I have as much use of all his power and in- 
terest, which you know to be the greatest, as if they were 
my own; nor could I otherwise have defeated the designs 
of my desperate enemies, if to those forces J have always 
been master of, I had not joined the favor of the men in 
power. " # The wisdom of some of the principles disclosed 
in this letter, cannot be successfully arraigned; and we can 
well imagine, that inflexibility of opinion, at all times and 
under all circumstances, may operate injury in the govern- 
ment of a state ; but there is strong and satisfactory cause 
to doubt the sincerity of the writer, when insisting, that for 
his own conduct, he found a sanction in such principles. 
Indeed we find a lamentable amount of proof in his letters, 
that he deemed himself dishonored by his course ; and in 
our view, such of them as appear in this part of these pages, 
show to demonstration, that his devotion to this triumvirate 
was not only not involuntary, as is pretended, but that it 
was opposed to every consideration of public good, and to 
a most shameful extent, spontaneous. Besides, there is 

*Ep. Fam, 1. U, 



78 SKETCH OF THE 

abundant proof that he deemed resistance at this very pe- 
riod the glorious part of a generous patriot.* 

His enthusiastic regard for Plato is well known; havino- 
prompted him on all occasions to extol his maxims, and on 
one, indeed, to declare that he would rather err with him 
than go right with others.! It is not for us to question 
the excellence of his model; but we have no hesitation in 
denying the applicability of that rule of the philosopher, re- 
lied on in the letter to Lentulus, "that we should never 
contend in public affairs further than we can persuade our 
citizens, nor offer violence to our parent or country;" and 
we do so because there was not the slightest real effort on 
the part of Cicero to persuade resistance to injurious grants, 
but on the contrary, the usurpers were sooner or later sus- 
tained in all their flagitious demands. The rule of Plato 
contemplates in terms, contention to some extent, and does 
not authorize surrender to faction until persuasion has been 
found to fail. Had Gicero endeavored, without success, to 
restore the union of the honest, of the breach of which he 
complains, or had he with like want of success, attempted. 
by resistance, to reclaim the factious from desperate coun- 
cils, and not sought to do so, as he is said to have done, by 
gratifying their thirst of power, through voluntary grants of 
it, a dread of violence to his country would then perhaps 
have made continued opposition, not less wrong than it was 
unavailing; but the post of a patriot would be a sinecure 
indeed, were the mere apprehension of further evil to do 
away with the necessity of any the least attempt to remove 
that which is present, and in itself grievous; or, in other 
words, were he permitted to succumb to usurpation without 
taking a single step to ascertain whether it is in reality or 
not irresistible. It may be said that the inutility of resist- 
ance was apparent in Cato's repeated defeats ; but of all 
men, our orator could with the least grace have rested upon 
■uch reasoning; as the true guardian of a state, the character 
he affected, does not content himself with other men's 

*Ep. Fara. 2. v. 
| Errare mehercule male cum Platone quam cum i-stis vera sentir-;. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 79 

efforts. Moreover, Cato's means were, alas, unequal to his 
exalted designs, and could any thing on earth have made 
his virtue available, it would have been the alliance of Cice- 
ro's eloquence ; but here, unfortunately, instead of a willing 
ally, it found an opposing bawd. 

The orator's entire conduct in reference to the division of 
the Campanian lands, to which we not long since referred, 
goes far to show, that if properly opposed, the triumvirs were 
not omnipotent ; and at the same time hopelessly deprives 
him of any benefit whatever from Plato's rule; for in this 
affair of the lands, his only show of opposition was actually 
successful; and Middleton tells us, led to universal joy ; nor 
was it withdrawn, as we have seen, from dread of violence to 
his country, but confessedly from complaisance to Pompey, 
and admiration of Caesar's great exploits. In a word, it is 
manifest that he did not look on opposition as fruitless, 
though disliking Cato's manner of it.* 

With regard to his frequent appeals to the wisdom of 
Plato, in his own justification, we cannot but think, from 
the view we have taken of the character and sentiments of 
that philosophic statesman, that had he lived after Cicero, 
he would have been slow indeed to point to him as the per- 
fect citizen to whom to adjudge his prize of virtue;! though 
we confess, that during the consulate, and in the foreign 
government, of which we shall soon treat, the Roman did 
realize not a few of his precepts. 

In reviewing Cicero's course as a statesman, as we shall 
do when descanting upon his character, we must necessa- 
rily recur to his measures, at this juncture; meanwhile, we 
cannot better extend our view of the apologetical letter, 
also the subject of future enquiry, than in transcribing a 
short commentary upon it, for which Melmoth professes to 
be indebted to a friend. "It is observable that the princi- 
ples by which Cicero attempts to justify himself in this 
epistle, are such as will equally defend the most abandoned 

* Ad, Att. 2. 1. Ep. Fam. 2. 5, f Plato? fifth book of lawa. 



80 SKETCH OF THE 

prostitution and desertion in political conduct. Personal 
gratitude and resentment, an eye to private and particular 
interests, mixed with a pretended regard to public good ; an 
attention to a brother's advancement, and further favor; a 
sensibility in being caressed by a great man in power; a 
calculation of the advantages derived from the popularity 
and credit of that man to one's own personal self, are very 
weak foundations, indeed, to support the superstructure of 
a true patriot's character : yet these are the principles which 
Cicero here expressly avows and defends." 

The expression of sorrow, in the following letter, seems 
to have drawn a somewhat unfriendly admission, even from 
Dr. Middleton. 

"I am afflicted, my dearest brother — I am afflicted that 
there is no republic, no justice in trials; that this season of 
my life, which ought to flourish in the authority of the sena- 
torian character, is either wasted in the drudgery of the bar, 
or relieved only by domestic studies ; that what I have ever 
been fond of from a boy, 

"In every virtuous act and glorious strife, 
To shine the first and best," 

is now wholly lost and gone ; that my enemies are partly 
not opposed, partly defended by me; and neither what I 
love, nor what I hate, left free to me." 

That Cicero deeply lamented his lost sway in the public 
councils, is very manifest; but, assuming, as we think we 
may, the insincerity of the letter to Lentuius, we can ima- 
gine no other fetters upon his free agency, than those which 
ambition or fear imposed ; and as to the virtuous contentions, 
the want of which he deplores, what else had he to do, but 
to cease whining, and come to the rescue of his suffering 
country? Had he been fearless, the world could not have 
offered him strife more glorious; and this he not only knew, 
but acknowledged. 

About this time he writes: "I am under the sad neces- 
sity either of tamely submitting to the sentiments of those 
few who lead the republick, or of imprudently joining in a 



LIFE OF CICERO. 81 

weak and fruitless opposition." If such were the alter- 
native, may it not well be asked, could a statesman of 
high principles in political conduct, have hesitated to 
withdraw ? Could he without dishonor, submit to so de- 
grading an alternative ? Melmoth very sensibly suggests 
the proper course ; and gives us an extract from Sir William 
Temple, as applicable. "An honest physician," says that 
writer, "is excused for leaving his patient when he finds 
the disease growing desperate ; and can by his attendance, 
expect only to receive his fees, without any hopes or ap- 
pearance of deser^mg them." 

"As to your inquiry," says Cicero to Lentulus, "concern- 
ing the situation of public affairs, there are great divisions 
among us; but the zeal and prudence of the several parties 
are by no means equal. Those who enjoy the largest share of 
wealth and power [Cassar, Pompey and Crassus] have gained 
a superiority of credit likewise, by the folly and instability 
of their antagonists; for they have obtained from the senate 
with very little opposition, what- they had no hopes of re- 
ceiving even from the people, without raising great dis- 
turbances. Accordingly the house has voted Cassar a sum 
of money for the payment of his army, together with a 
power of nominating ten lieutenants; as they have also, 
without the least difficulty, dispensed with the Sempronian 
law for appointing him a successor. I do but slightly touch 
upon these particulars, as I cannot reflect upon our affairs 
with any satisfaction." A stranger to Cicero would doubt- 
less conclude, that he had withstood these grants, of which 
he so earnestly complains ; but so far from it, he informs us 
in a speech made about the time, wherein the very grants 
are enumerated, that he was their principal author;* and it 
will be seen that at the commencement of the civil war, he 
made it a merit with Caesar, that he had in all things sus- 
tained his dignity. 

Upon the whole, we cannot, on an impartial view of 
these and other letters of Cicero, hesitate to approve the 

*"Haruni ego sententiarum et princeps et auctor fui," [Pro Balbo, 27.] 



82 SKETCH OF THE 

judgment of the best of his contemporaries,* that in his re- 
lations with Caesar, Pompey and Crassus, there was a mean 
and voluntary submission to illegal power; and we more- 
over think that there was not only submission to this power, 
but an apparent constant and anxious effort to ensure its 
stability; the more indefensible, as we know him to have 
been familiar with the designs of the triumvirs, and find 
him afterwards boasting, that he had foreseen, as from an 
eminence, most, if not all the calamities, which followed 
upon the irregular powers his fear, or if we will, his grati- 
tude, contributed to build up.t In short, we think that his 
league with these the worst enemies of Rome, was not 
more opposed to patriotism, than to common honor, and 
that it is the less to be pardoned ; as if upon his return, 
with an authority secured to him by his renown, majestic elo- 
quence, services and recent suffering, he had manfully vin- 
dicated the ancient dignity and liberties of his oppressed 
country; though he may not hive saved her — as that was 
beyond the reach of human intellect or wisdom — her fall 
might at least have been delayed; and at all events, his 
own great name pxeserved to us, rescued from much and 
deep reproach, and with the true patriot's glory. t 

For some years after his exile, Cicero was more than or- 
dinarily engaged in the duties of the bar. His fortune, 
though in a mutilated state, restored to him, he passed all 
the leisure he could command, at his different villas, and 
in the second year after his return prepared the piece called 
the complete orator. This admirable work, says Dr. Mid- 
dleton, remains entire, "a standing monument of Cicero's 
parts and abilities, which, while it exhibits to us the idea 
of a perfect orator, and marks out the way by which 
he formed himself to that character, explains the reason 
likewise, why nobody has since equalled him, or ever will, 
till there be found again united, what will hardly be found 

*BibuIus, Marcellinus, Cato, Favonius and others. 

fPhil.2. Ad. Ca3C. et Sul.— £ P . Fam. Ad. Att. x. iv. 

{The course of conduct, and its exalted reward here suggested, were pursued and 
won by Cato, of whom it has been said, that if he could not save, he prolonged the 
life of liberty.— Letters on Patriotism, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 83 

singly in any man, the same industry and the same parts." 
It was also about this time a treatise on politics was pre- 
pared, and not long after he was chosen to fill a vacancy 
in the college of Augurs. 

The next important event in the life of Cicero was the 
masterly defence of Milo. For this man he seems to have 
cherished a warm and constant friendship; and now gave 
an illustrious proof of it in a powerful and most eloquent 
effort in his behalf, when tried for the murder of Clodius. 
Of all the enemies of that detestable tribune, and few 
among the honest were his friends, Milo had been most 
zealous in counteracting his designs. Their hatred of 
each other was undisguised, and had been repeatedly shown 
in mutual threats about the time of the accidental encoun- 
ter, which terminated fatally to Clodius. They met at a 
short distance from the city ; Clodius with a retinue of 
friends and servants on horseback, and Milo also well 
attended, accompanied by his wife, Fausta, and Marcus 
Fusius his friend, in a chariot. The quarrel beginning 
with the servants was soon shared by all ; and Clodius 
wounded, was finally overpowered. He succeeded in re- 
treating to a public house, but was, together with the land- 
lord, slain. A number of his men were also killed, and his 
own body remained in the road, until taken by a senator 
passing that way, to Rome. The utmost confusion pre- 
vailed in the city in consequence of the murder, the body 
was exposed in the forum, and consumed in a fire kindled 
with the furniture of the courts of justice, themselves des- 
troyed. Pompey, who was then sole consul, procured the 
appointment of a special commission, over which a judge 
of consular rank was to preside, to try Milo; and was in- 
deed the principal cause of his ruin : but Cicero on this 
occasion seems not to have been awed by his power, to 
have undertaken the defence with a zeal equal to his elo- 
quence, and to have shown in the cause of friendship an 
intrepidity often less obvious in the higher claims of his 
country. Such was his constancy, says Asconius,* "that 

* Asconius lived in the time of Vespasian, and besides some historical treatises, 
wrote annotations on Cicero's orations. 



84 SKETCH OF THE 

neither the loss of popular favor, nor Pompey's suspicions, 
nor his own danger, nor the terror of arms, could divert him 
from the resolution of undertaking Milo's defence." 

The unusual solemnity attendant upon this trial, with the 
array of arms in the forum, is said to have so agitated the 
orator that Milo was greatly apprehensive he would lose 
the benefit of his powers; and that fearful of some such 
effect from the display, he desired his advocate to approach 
the place of trial in a litter, "for he was not only timid in 
war, but had his fears when he spoke in public, and in 
many cases scarce left trembling even in the height and 
vehemence of his eloquence."* Plutarch, however, admits 
that the trembling of the orator on this occasion, was 
ascribed rather to his anxiety for his friend, than to any 
particular timidity* For ourselves, we see in Cicero's ap- 
prehensions, and determination to act in spite of them, the 
best evidence of true courage and loyal friendship, and 
can feel no surprise at his agitation ; as he was not only 
active in opposition to Pompey, whose wish, with him, was 
in most cases, sovereign ; but may be supposed to have felt 
that in defending the murderer of Clodius, he was provok- 
ing a power now furious, and still formidable, at no time 
backward in revenge, and once calamitous to himself. But 
whether his alarm were unworthy of him or not, the speech 
which has come down to us, corrected, as is said by him- 
self, for Milo when in exile, is a perfect model of a cri- 
minal law argument. We know nothing of the kind in 
modern oratory to be preferred to it, unless we yield to the 
high wrought eulogy of Burke, and point to the gorgeous 
effort of Sheridan. 

It is a trite observation lhat human nature is the same in 
all ages. Supposing that by this is meant that the judg- 
ments and passions of men have been at all times swayed 
equally by like causes, we have somewhere seen it hinted 
that the great variation in taste at different periods, on lite- 
rary subjects, and more especially on oratory, gave counte- 

* Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 85 

nance to a contrary opinion; and, to say the truth, though our 
admiration of Cicero's great power in his art partakes in no 
small measure of enthusiasm, yet we readily admit that we 
read of its wonderful effects with surprise, and have been 
far more intensely affected by the eloquence of Chatham, 
Sheridan, and other British orators, as also of some of our 
own, from the era of the elder Adams to the present day, 
than by the justest and most polished translations of the 
Roman's greatest efforts. This may argue a taste unsound, 
but singular it assuredly is not. We incline to think, how- 
ever, that the eloquence of Cicero has been at no time 
equalled, and build this opinion upon its multiplied and 
well attested trophies. A history of oratory would not per- 
haps present better authenticated or more signal triumphs, 
than were some of those to which, in the sketch of the 
consulate, we have referred. They appear indeed to have 
completely justified the rapturous admiration (as Middleton 
calls it) of Pliny, who tells us that Cicero could persuade 
the people to give up their bread, their pleasures, and their 
injuries, to the charms of his eloquence.* 

There was at this time another striking proof of subser- 
viency to power. Pompey, affecting a laudable concern 
for the electoral right, proposed a law and succeeded in 
passing it, providing that no consul or praetor should there- 
after be qualified to hold a province, until five years should 
have elapsed from the close of his magistracy ; meanwhile 
the provinces were to be governed by such senators of con- 
sular and praetorian rank as had not been abroad. These 
foreign commands were much coveted, and being due to 
those who had enjoyed the higher trusts at home, were 
supposed to be the great source of impurity in the elec- 
tions, as the means of accumulation they afforded, and 
the vast power they conferred, were such, that the most 
profligate steps were frequently taken to secure the prelimi- 
nary offices. The patriotic alarm of Pompey was not 
such, however, as to endanger or disturb his own power or. 

* Quo. te M. Tulli piaculo taceani? &c— Hist, vii, xxx. 



86 SKETCH OF THE 

hopes. He took care that his law should have no retro- 
spective energy, and managed to secure the government of 
Spain for himself when his consulship should have expired: 
and to appease any resentment which Caesar might feel at 
being overlooked in these extraordinary privileges, so 
arranged that the absence of that general might not be ob- 
jected to him in his suit for the consulship, of which he was 
then again desirous. On this occasion, the senate appears 
to have exerted all its power to obstruct this latter measure ; 
but Cicero, at the joint request of Pompey and Caesar, 
again prevailed to thwart that body, and propitiate its 
enemies.* 

Under the law of Pompey, of consular rank, he was now 
made governor of Ciliciaj and though at no time desirous of 
foreign command ; esteeming his senatorian functions more 
suited to his genius, he did not think himself at liberty to 
withhold his services ; but seems to have been governed 
exclusively by a sense of duty, as the appointment was in 
truth repugnant to his wishes ; nor was he in the least in- 
fluenced by the certain means of acquisition it promised, 
or by the prospect of uncontrollable power and regal state 
within the province. The government was, however, ac- 
cepted with a view to an immediate return on the expira- 
tion of the year, and we find him, even before his departure, 
argent in his entreaties to his friends, by all means to pre- 
Tent the prolongation of his command. 

After an interview of some days with Pompey, which 
seems to have been of a nature to preclude all disclosures, 
at least by letter, to his friend, but which, from subsequent 
events, we may suppose to have resulted in a determination 
to adhere to and promote the fortunes of that general, he 
left Italy for his government, accompanied by his brother 
Quintus,$ and Pontiuius, an approved soldier, as lieuten- 

* Ad. Atticum, 7. 1. Duncan's Cic. 592. Note 18. 

t A country of Asia Minor. 

X "Quintus Cicero, the brother of the orator, after having passed through the 
office of pranor in the year 692, was elected governor of Asia, where he presided 
three years with credit. He distinguished himself in Gaul as one of Ca>sar's lieu» 
tenanu, but at the breaking out of the civil war tie followed the fortune of Pon> 



LIFE OF CICERO. 87 

ants. On reaching Iconium in Lycaonia, he repaired to 
the camp, and put himself in readiness to repel an expect- 
ed incursion of the Parthians, emboldened by the defeat 
and death of Crassus, again to invade the Roman territo- 
ries. It was not however his fortune to come into conflict 
with that formidable enemy, much to the satisfaction of his 
friends, whose confidence in his generalship was not un- 
limited, and who we rather suspect, were any thing but 
assured of his valor. It must be conceded, nevertheless, 
that whilst his civil administration was eminently wise and 
beneficial, he was at all times prompt in his duty as a 
soldier. Having it principally in charge to bring Cappado- 
cia to submit to king Ariobarzanes, he was in this success- 
ful, to the satisfaction of all parties, without recourse to 
arms, though there was need of warlike operation against 
the bands of robbers infesting Mount Amanus, the eastern 
boundary of his province ; and these he completely routed. 
This last affair was deemed of such moment that the army 
saluted him imperator,* a title formerly of much value, but 
then from indiscriminate use somewhat shorn of its digni- 
ty. The governor himself seems to have been not a little 
proud of his prowess, and to have meditated not only a 
supplication, but the honors of a triumph for this and other 
exploits not more shining when abroad ; and was so san- 
guine as to have reserved money for the purpose. We are 
told that Ccelius, the orator, having desired him to send 
him some panthers from Cilicia for his games, " in his 
answer he could not forbear boasting of his achievements. 



pey. However, after the battle of Pharsalia, he made his peace with Cassar and 
returned into Italy. He appears to have been of a haughty, petulant, and imperious 
temper, and in every view of his character altogether unamiable. But what gives 
it a cast of peculiar darkness is his conduct towards Cicero, whom he endeavored 
to prejudice in the opinion of Caesar at a time when they were both suppliants for 
his clemency. This, as far as can be collected from the letters to Atticus, was an 
instance of the basest and most aggravated ingratitude. For whatever Cicero's 
failings may have been in other respects, he seems to have had none with regard to 
Guintus, but that of loving him with a tenderness he ill deserved."— Melmoth, Ad. 
Alt. 1. xv. 6. xviii. 

* Imperator, in Roman antiquity, was a title of honor conferred on victorious 
generals by their armies, and afterwards confirmed by the senate, 



88 SKETCH OF THE 

He said there were no panthers left in Cilicia ; these ani- 
mals in their vexation to find that they were the only ob- 
jects of war. while every thing else was at peace, were fled 
into Caria."* It is thought, nevertheless, by the moderns, that 
the author we quote speaks too slightingly of these military 
services, as it is certain that Cicero received the public 
thanks and that the people went near to decree him a triumph. 
Be this as it may, it was from his civil government that he 
derived substantial glory : and perhaps the Roman annals 
do not furnish an example of a proconsular administration, 
in many ways so admirable. Careless of acquisition him- 
self, and constant in his desire to promote the happiness 
of those he governed, he was inflexible in protecting them 
from the rapine of all about him ; and recovering large 
sums of money, shamefully embezzled, he wisely and kind- 
ly applied them to their wants. In short his whole rule is 
worthy of the highest praise ; it was vigorous, moderate, 
just and clement. 

♦Plutarch is wrong in the name of Cicero's correspondent; he has it Caecilius, it 
was as we have given it> Ccelius. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 89 



SECTION IV. 



In that master-stroke of policy, the formation of the first 
triumvirate, of which Julius Caesar was the crafty projector, 
is seen an early and most effective step, in his long con- 
templated march to absolute dominion. Full of deserved 
laurels on his return from Spain, and affecting to be animat- 
ed only by a feeling of humanity, and by a desire for the 
public concord, a declared motive in which the statesmen 
of the day were generally misled, he applied himself to 
heal the existing quarrels of Pompey with Crassus; nor 
was he long in effecting his design ; these late enemies ap- 
preciating his rising power, and dazzled by the wily project 
presented to them.* A triple alliance was proposed ; and 
though each had his individual views of aggrandizement, 
the deepest injury, if not total ruin, of the authority of the 
senate, was a common object of the league. That effected, 
each, no doubt, when combining, resolved to follow his 
separate design. How far this primary object was realized 
we have already seen, as also to what extent the fears or 
gratitude of Cicero had contributed to its accomplishment. 
In this union, at all events, did the Roman constitution re- 
ceive its deadliest blow. 

The secret of the subsequent rupture between Pompey 
and Caesar, may be found in their mutual determination, 
the object of their league effected, to bear no brother near 
the throne. The vast renown which Caesar had acquired 

* Plutarch, if we mistake not, confines a true knowledge of Caesar's real inten- 
tion to Cato; but the inference is inevitable tbat Cicero was as little deceived, else 
why dissuade, as he is known to have done, an union with purposes avowedly so 
laudable. We are indeed not left to inference in this matter, having the orator's 
own authority.— Phil. 2. x. 

8* 



90 SKETCH OF THE 

by his extraordinary valor and military talents in the late 
wars of Gaul, added to his great reputation before, had 
made him the equal of his rival. His soaring spirit, how- 
ever, panted for supremacy ; and every cement of their 
union now destroyed by the death of Julia and the fate of 
Crassus, the civil war began, and with it vanished the re- 
publican glories of Rome. 

There was little hope of reconciliation, when Cicero, his 
government of Cilicia having expired, arrived in Italy. He 
discovered that the desire of war was universal ; and though 
in an interview with Pompey he found him resolved upon 
a struggle, seeing in its result the slavery of his country, 
he did not the less exert his zeal and influence, to mediate 
a peace. It was the more difficult to manage Pompey, as 
he seems at that time to have held his enemy in contempt, 
and to have reposed a fearless confidence in his own troops, 
and in those of the republick ; whilst Caesar feigning a 
reluctance to war, assured of the superiority and affection 
of his army, was in fact opposed to all accommodation. 
The truth is, the hour had arrived long forseen by both, and 
no doubt welcomed, when hatred and ambition were at 
once to be appeased by the ruin of a rival and undivided 
empire.* Pompey inflexible, Cicero appears to have found 
his only comfort in a vain imagination, that Csesar would 
not hazard the mighty power he had reached ; but mistaken, 
here, he did not hesitate to advise the friends of peace to 
grant him his own terms rather "than try the experiment 
of arms, and prefer the most unjust conditions to the justest 
war : since after they had been arming him against them- 
selves for ten years past, it was too late to think of fighting 
when they had made him too strong for them."T 

One would think that in contemplating this now irresisti- 

* There are some who think that Caesar's desire of peace at this time was sincere. 
That it was so, is inferable from his own commentaries, and perhaps from some of the 
letters ol Cicero. We incline, notwithstanding, to Plutarch's view, "that his motive 
was the same that animated Cyrus and Alexander before him to disturb the peace of 
mankindj the unquenchable thirst of empire, and the wild ambition of being the 
greatest man in the world, which was not possible till Pompey was destroyed," 
j Ad. Atticum, vii. 5. 6. 14. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 91 

ble power, he must have deeply deplored his own potent 
agency in feeding it, and have felt to what a sad extent his 
fear, or the mother of the virtues,* had betrayed him. His 
advice, which we would suppose to have been distaste- 
ful to his friend, did not, as is known, prevail. The 
senate generally, in the interests of Pompey, decreed that 
Caesar should dismiss his troops by a certain day, or be de- 
clared an enemy ; and when opposed by the veto power of 
the tribunes, one of which was Marc Antony, afterwards so 
famous, ordered the consuls, praetors, tribunes, and all who 
were about the city with proconsular power, to take caie 
that the republick received no detriment. Whereupon An- 
tony fled, and the Rubicon was passed.! 

* Of gratitude he speaks thus : Est enim heec una virtus non solum maxima, sed 
etiam omnium virtutum mater. — Pro. Plane. 33. — De. Fin 2. 22. 

f Under the Roman constitution the tribunes were clothed with very great pow- 
era. Among others, a single tribune was able by the interposition of his veto, com- 
pletely to embarrass the action of the senate, howsoever important the matter before 
it, or however alarming the exigency, and the only remedy, rarely ineffectual it is 
true, was to declare the refractory tribune a public enemy. A similar power was 
recognized in the government of Poland, and it would seem from the following 
anecdote of Sir Walter Scott, that the modern cure was somewhat more summary, 
"Most readers must be so far acquainted with Polish diets as to know, that their re- 
solution was not legally valid if there was one dissenting voice, and thai in many 
cases the most violent means were resorted to, to obtain unanimity. The follow- 
ing instance was related to our informer, a person of high tank. On some occasion 
a provincial diet was convened for the purpose of passing a resolution, which was 
generally acceptable; but to which it was apprehended that one nome of the district 
would oppose his veto. To escape this interruption, it was generally resolved to 
meet exactly at the hour of summons, to proceed to business upon the instant, and 
thus to elude the anticipated attempt of the individual to defeat the purpose of the 
meeting. They accordingly met at the hour with most accurate piecision, and shut 
and bolted the doors. But the dissentient arrived a few moments alter, and en- 
trance being refused, because the diet was already constituted, he cl.mbed upon the 
roof of the hall, and it being summer time when no fires were lighted, descended 
through the vent into the stove, by which in winter the apartment was heated. 
Here he lay perdu, until the vote was called, when just as it was about to be record- 
ed as unanimous in favor of the above measure, he thrust his head out of the stove, 
like a turtle protruding his neck from his shell, and pronounced the fatal veto. Un- 
fortunately for himself, instead of instantly withdrawing his head, he looked round 
for an instant with exultation, to remark and enjoy the confusion which his sudden 
appearance and interruption had excited in the assembly. One of the nobles who 
stood by unsheathed his sabre, and severed at a blow the head of the dissentient 
from his body." Our noble informer expressing some doubt of a story so extraordi- 
nary, was referred for its confirmation to prince Sobeisky, afterwards king of Pa- 
land, who not only bore testimony to the strange scene as what he had himself 
witnessed, but declared that the head of the dietin rolled over on his own foot, al- 
most as soon as he heard the word veto uttered. 

Scott's Napoleon. Note. Cap. xiii. 126. 



92 SKETCH OF THE 

It may be well for a clear understanding of Cicero's after 
relations with the tribune we have named, to hint at the 
nature and circumstances of their earlier acquaintance. 
The family of Antony was noble, and several of his ances- 
tors had enjoyed the highest dignities in Rome. He was 
himself ambitious, and oppressed by no scruples as to the 
means of his advancement, was the willing and active 
friend of Caesar and his designs. His personal hatred of 
Cicero grew out of an influence the latter had exerted in 
separating him from his friend Curio, who was devotedly 
attached to him, and supplied him with means for his debau- 
cheries. Cicero advised the elder Curio, who had asked his 
counsel in the matter, to pay his son's debts, annexing as a 
condition, the dismissal of his friend.* The enmity thus 
originated, was embittered by Antony's connexions, who 
by the marriage of his mother with Lentulus, put to death 
in the late conspiracy, were the inveterate enemies of Cice- 
ro. At the commencement of the civil war, however An- 
tony prcfessed the warmest regard for him, and had before 
even attacked his old enemy Clodius,t in return for assis- 
tance afforded, in his suit for the quaestorship, which had 
been extended to him at the pressing solicitation of Caesar. 

The contemptuous opinion of Caesar's power which, in 
his conferences with Cicero, Pompey had indulged, would 
appear from his retreat at this time, to have been either not 
real, or to have undergone a sudden and entire change. It 
was the general belief, that the plan of the war would be to 
act on the defensive, until the legions from Spain could 
arrive ; and all were astonished when Pompey determined 
to abandon Italy, and none more so than Cicero. He had 
not as yet declared for him, and not having accompanied 

* "Curio when a very young man had entered into a commerce of a criminal and 
most detestable kind with Antony. His father in order to break off this intercourse, 
was obliged to call in Cicero; who by his prudent and friendly advice, weaned the 
son from a passion not less expensive it seems, than it was execrable; and by this 
means as Cicero reproaches Antony in one of his philippics, he saved an illustrious 
family from utter ruin "—Melm. Plut. in. Ant. 

t In the noble and affecting speech for Milo, Cicero speaks in terms of warm 
commendation of Antony 's attack upon Clodius. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 93 

him in his flight, many believed that he would join Cassar. 
Plutarch says that he fluctuated greatly in his opinion, and 
was in the utmost anxiety. That he was anxious, his let- 
ters abundantly show ; though there does not appear to be 
any evidence of intention at any time to join Caesar, what- 
ever may have been the native irresolution displayed in the 
delay to follow Pompey. He was scarce more amazed 
than incensed at the precipitate retreat from Rome; thought 
that his friend had done nothing prudently, or with courage; 
and knew that his own advice and authority had been 
slighted. He did, therefore, meditate a neutral course, 
which he was aware would satisfy Caesar. Of this, as will 
presently appear, he had every assurance. 

In a letter to Atticus, after Pompey's withdrawal, Cicero 
says, "the great obligations which I am under to Pompey, 
and my particular friendship with him, as well as the cause 
of the republick, seem to persuade me that I ought to join 
my counsels and fortunes with his. Besides, if I stay be- 
hind, and desert that band of the best and most eminent 
citizens, I must fall under the power of a single person, 
who gives me many proofs indeed of being my friend, and 
whom you know I have long ago taken care to make such, 
from a suspicion of this very storm which hangs over us ; 
yet it should be well considered both how far I may venture 
to trust him, and supposing it clear that I may do so, 
whether it be consistent with a firm and honest citizen to 
continue in that city, where he has borne the greatest 
honors and performed the greatest acts, and where he is 
now invested with the most honorable priesthood, when it 
is to be attended with some danger, and perhaps with some 
disgrace, if Pompey should ever restore the republick. These 
are the difficulties on the one side, let us see what they are 
on the other. Nothing has hitherto been done by our 
Pompey either with prudence or courage. I may add also, 
nothing but what was contrary to my advice and authority." 
And after alluding to Pompey's pains in nursing the power 
of Caesar, he proceeds: "What can be more dishonorable, 



94 SKETCH OF THE 

or show a greater want of conduct, than his retreat, or 
rather shameful flight, from the city," &.c. &c. And again 
in another letter: "For my part I easily know whom I 
ought to fly, not whom I ought to follow. As to that 
saying of mine, which you extol and think worthy to be 
celebrated, that I would rather be conquered with Pora- 
pey than conquer with Caesar, it is true I still say so; but 
with such a Pompey as he then was, or I took him to be ; 
but as to this man who runs away before he knows from 
whom and whither; who has betrayed us and ours, and 
given up his country, and is now leaving Italy, — if I had 
rather be conquered with him, the thing is over, I am con- 
quered." These letters show, that although displeased 
with and almost despising Pompey, his mind was undeter- 
mined ; and in another he tells Atticus that he had neither 
done nor omitted to do any thing which had not a probable 
excuse, and that he was willing to consider a little longer 
what was fit and right for him to do. 

With regard to his views of the two great parties dis- 
tracting the empire, it is very manifest that he deemed most 
poorly of both ; though it is equally clear that his prefer- 
ences were with Pompey. His view of Caesar is thus elo- 
quently told: "Do you mean Hannibal or the emperor of 
Rome? Mistaken, wretched man, insensible to every idea 
of true glory — he pretends that all he does is to maintain 
his dignity. But can dignity exist without virtue ? Is it 
compatible with virtue to continue at the head of his army, 
without the voice of the people to authorize him, and to 
seize cities inhabited by Romans, that he may open himself 
a more easy passage to the heart of his country ? not to 
mention the cancelling the national debts, the recall of the 
banished, and a thousand crimes that are yet to be perpe- 
trated, before he can rear the temple of tyrannic power, 
the only deity he worships. I do not envy his great- 
ness. I would rather spend one day with you in the sunny 
walks of Lucretum, than be a monarch over innumerable 
kingdoms acquired by guilt like his. I had rather die a 
thousand deaths than harbor such an idea, at the expense 



LIFE OF CICERO. 95 

of my country. You think, say you, for yourself. And is 
there a wretch who is not at liberty to think? But I repeat 
it, I think the man who acts in that manner, is more mise- 
rable than the wretch who lies extended on the wheel. 
There is but one misery beyond it, and that is succeeding 
in the attempt. But of this enough."* 

The view of Pompey, if possible, is yet more frightful. 
After stating his idea of a patriot prince, "never," he ex- 
claims, "did our friend Pompey, and on this occasion less 
than ever, think upon this character. Both Caesar and he 
are rivals in power, but not for making this a flourishing 
government. Pompey did not abandon Rome because it 
was untenable, nor Italy because he was driven out of it; 
but his original design was to move earth and sea, to rouse 
barbarous monarchs, to introduce the troops of savage na- 
tions into Italy, and to levy numerous armies. He wishes 
to renew the tyranny of Sylla, and in this wish many con- 
cur with him. Do you imagine these two rivals can come 
to no accommodation? that they can enter upon no agree- 
ment? They may; but now or never is the time, but 
neither of them has our happiness ultimately in view, for 
that is inconsistent with the interests of them both."t 

About this time Caesar addressed a letter to Cicero, urg- 
ing him to come to Rome, and direct him by his advice, 
authority and assistance, in all things. We insert the reply 
to it, as in striking conflict with his real opinions, and as it 
provoked the reproaches of many, and even, it would seem, 
of the time-serving Atticus himself. 

"Cicero Imperator to Caesar Commander in chief, wisheth 
prosperity : 

"Having read your letter, which I received from our 
friend Furnius, in which you propose I should return to 
Rome, I was not surprised at your desire to avail yourself 
of my advice and authority; but I was at a loss for your 

» Ad. Atticum. The reader will probably agree with Guthrie, that Addison, in 
his Cato, was not a lithe indebted to this eloquent letter. 
fAd. Atticuin. 



96 SKETCH OF THE 

meaning in requiring my interest and assistance. I how- 
ever flattered myself, that consistently with your admirable 
and matchless wisdom, you were willing I should co-operate 
with you for re-establishing the happiness, the peace and 
the tranquility of our country, for which I am qualified both 
by my disposition and character. If this be your wish, if 
you are concerned for our friend Pompey, and for a recon- 
ciliation with him, and with the country, you can indeed 
find no man more proper than I am to be employed in such 
a cause. I took the most early opportunity of recommend- 
ing peaceful measures, both to him and the senate, nor have 
I taken the least concern in the war ever since hostilities 
commenced; judging you to be injured by a war, which 
was kindled by those enemies who envied you the honors 
decreed by the people of Rome: but as on that occa- 
sion I not only promoted your pretensions to those distinc- 
tions, but likewise solicited others to join your party, so at 
this time, I am sensibly concerned for the dignity of Pom- 
pey. For it is several years since I singled you both out 
as the objects of my chief regard, and as my most particu- 
lar friends, which you still are."* 

There can be no question that a stern patriot would and 
ought to have disdained, in this way, to approach a man, of 
whose execrable projects he had no doubt; and there is not 
the shadow of an apology for Cicero, except that he de- 
signed his letter to promote the purposes of peace. He 
admits to Atticus, that he flattered Caesar, to give the greater 
weight to his opinion, and that for the same reason he as- 
sured him he had the better cause : speaking to serve his 
country, he adds, that he cared not to be reproached for 
such servility, and that in such a cause he would have glad- 
lv thrown himself at Caesar's feet. To say the truth, his 
apologetical letter on this occasion, does not betray the 
conscious shame which often waited upon his compliances: 
for he declares that he was perfectly willing to have it pro- 
claimed in an assembly of the people ; though it is not easy 
to discover in what way his good name could be served by 

*Ad. Att. 9.6. 11. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 97 

an exposure of his flatteries, or of sentiments which all 
must have known to be in direct hostility to the truth. 

If in the letter to Caesar, and apology to Atticus, Cicero 
were sincere, he thought an accommodation not impossible, 
and might hence have delayed his flight to the party to 
which he was at heart attached. The interview, however, 
mentioned in the following letter, must have weakened, if 
not altogether dispelled, such a hope ; and was well calcu- 
lated to precipitate his retreat. "My discourse with him 
[Cassar] was such, as would rather make him think well of 
me, than thank me. I stood firm in refusing to go to 
Rome; but was deceived in expecting to find him easy: 
for I never saw any one less so : 'he was condemned,' he 
said, 'by my judgment, and if I did not come, others would 
be the more backward.' I told him that their case was very 
different from mine. After many things said, however, on 
both sides, he bade me come and try to make peace. Shall 
I do it, says I, in my own way? 'Do you imagine,' replied 
he, 'that I will prescribe to you?' I will move the senate, 
then, said I, for a decree against your going to Spain, or 
transporting your troops into Greece, and say a great deal 
besides in bewailing the case of Pompey. '1 will not allow,' 
said he, 'such things to be said.' So I thought, said I, and 
for that reason will not come at all. The result was, that 
to shift off the discourse, he wished me to consider of it, 
which I could not refuse to do, and so we parted. I am 
persuaded that he is not pleased with me ; but I am pleased 
with myself, which I have not been before, for a long time. 
As for the rest, good gods ! what a crew he has with him, 
what a hellish band as you well call them ; and his declara- 
tion which I had almost forgotten, was odious ; that if he 
was not permitted to use my advice, he would use such as 
he could get from others, and pursue all measures which 
were for his service."* 

This interview with Cassar had the effect, we have sup- 
posed, of prompting him to speed in resolving, though he 

* Ad. Atticum. ix. xviii. 



98 SKETCH OF THE 

did not actually depart for some time after. It is a conjec- 
ture of some, that Caesar did not think him of so great 
importance as he imagined ; else he would not have left 
him at liberty. We are disposed to think otherwise; and 
it is certain, that notwithstanding the conference which 
dissatisfied him, he besought Cicero not to run after a cause 
which was then tottering, after declining to do so when it 
stood firm. "My successes, and the defeats of my adver- 
saries," he writes, "have been so great, that you will both 
sensibly violate my friendship, and hurt your own interest, 
if you do not follow fortune ;" and concludes, "what is 
more suitable to the character of a worthy, peaceable man 
and good citizen, than to take no concern in civil dissen- 
sions. This is a conduct which some approved of, but 
could not follow, because of danger; but you, after a full 
testimony of my life, and trial of my friendship, will find no 
course more safe or honorable, than to decline having a 
hand in this dispute." 

In addition, Cicero was informed by a friend in the coun- 
cils of Caesar, that the clemency of that general, in his first 
successes, was the result of policy, and not of humanity, 
and that on a prosperous issue of the war, his revenge 
would be ample. He conjured him, therefore, to remain 
neutral; as also did Tullia, to await events in Spain. His 
mind, however, at last resolved, he fled to Pompey; a de- 
termination such as friendship, and abhorrence of a bad, 
though powerful cause, should have dictated; and the more 
to be commended, as adopted at a moment when the for- 
tunes of his friend were declining, and when pressed him- 
self by Caesar, and the importunate prayers of others, to 
neutrality. 

There are some, nevertheless, who deny to Cicero the merit 
we concede; and incline to a belief, from the whole tenor 
of his letters, that he would never have fled to Pompey 
but from a conviction that he could not offend the generous 
Caesar beyond the measure of his clemency. In the speech 
for Marcellus, he has himself declared, that gratitude waa 



LIFE OF CICERO. 99 

the sole cause of his decision ;* but it is not probable that 
on that occasion he would have disclosed his real view of 
Caesar, or its effect upon his conduct at this time, and we 
are willing to think that the mixed and more flattering mo- 
tive we have ascribed was the true one. 

It was clearly foreseen, that in the result of the approach- 
ing struggle, Rome must either yield to a despotic domina- 
tion of Ceesar, or to a scarce less unmitigated rule of Pom- 
pey ; and there was little or no hope for the republic. The 
declared opinion of Cicero was, that "which side soever 
prevailed, the war must necessarily end in a tyranny ; the 
only difference was, that if their enemies conquered, they 
would be proscribed, if their friends be slaves."! The fol- 
lowers of Pompey were generally impressed with a belief of 
the importance of Cicero's character and counsels, to their 
cause ; and may be supposed to have been not a little ela- 
ted at his determination. On the other hand, we have seen 
with what anxious and condescending efforts Cssar had 
essayed to secure his neutrality at least, if not his active 
friendship. We may hence infer his vast real or supposed 
influence in the empire ; and in that view, his adherence to 
Pompey must have been of consequence : otherwise, it 
would seem to have been fruitless, and not merely so, but 
accompanied with a demeanour, without dignity, and even 
vexatious. 

On reaching the army his universal complaints are undis- 
guised, and we find him writing to his friend, that there was 
nothing good among them but the cause. Still the advocate 
of peace, he displeases his general, by an expression of dis- 
like to his councils, and unreserved opinion of the hazard 
of the war. Forbidden to talk of peace, his advice was 
equally unavailing in the plan and conduct of the war.} 



*Hominem secutus sura privato officio, non publico: tantumque apud me grati 
animi fidelis memoria valuit.— Pro Mareell. v. 

|Ad. Att. 7. 7. 

X "I had no sooner arrived, than I had occasion to repent of my resolution : not so 
much from the danger to which I was myself exposed, as from the many capital 
faults I discovered among them. In the first place, Pompey's forces were neither 
very considerable in point of numbers [his army at Pharsalia was double in number 



100 SKETCH OF THE 

This neglect of his opinions, coupled with a rebuke from 
Cato, upon the folly of his presence at all, begat the re- 
pentant feeling he acknowledges, and which he was in no 
way careful to conceal. "He disparaged," says Plutarch, 
"Pompey's preparations, insinuated a dislike to his coun- 
cils, and never spared his jests upon his allies. He was 
not indeed inclined to laugh himself; on the contrary, he 
walked about the camp, with a solemn countenance ; but 
he often made others laugh, though they were little disposed 
to do so." The good sense of Cato's rebuke, we think, is 
obvious : in the judgment of that Roman, Cicero could 
have been more serviceable to his country and friends, 
had he remained at home and accommodated himself to 
events. It is not easy, however, to withhold respect from 
his motive in joining Pompey ; and we have already been 
warm in its approval; but there is cause of blame, scarcely 
to be pardoned, in his unmanly dejection, and still more 

to that of Ctesar] nor by any means composed of warlike troops ; and in the next 
place, (I speak, however, with exception of Pompey, and a few others of the princi- 
pal leaders,) they carried on the war with such a spirit of rapaciousness, and breathed 
such principles of cruelty in their conversation, that I could not think even upon 
our success, without horror. To this I must add, that some of the most considerable 
officers were deeply involved in debt: and in short, there was nothing good among 
them but the cause. Thus despairing of success, I advised (what indeed I had al- 
ways recommended,) that proposals of accommodation should be offered to Ceesar ; 
and when I found Pompey utterly averse to all measures of that kind, I endeavored 
to persuade him at least to avoid a general engagement. This last advice, he seemed 
sometimes inclined to follow, and probably would have followed, if a slight advan. 
tage, which he soon afterwards gained, had not given him a confidence in his troops. 
[Ceesar thought this advantage a great one i if properly followed. — Plut. in Pom.] 
From that moment, ail the skill and conduct of this great man seemed to have utterly 
forsaken him •, and he acted so little like a general, that with a raw and inexpe- 
rienced army, he imprudently gave battle to the most brave and martial legions. 
The consequence was, that he suffered a most shameful defeat 5 and abandoning his 
camp to Caesar, ho was obliged to run away, unaccompanied even by a single at- 
tendant. This event determined me to lay down my arms, being persuaded that if 
we could not prevail with our united forces, we should scarce have better success 
when they were broken and dispersed. I declined, therefore, to engage any further 
in a war, the result of which must necessarily be attended with one or other of the 
following unhappy consequences: either to perish in the field of battle, to be taken 
prisoner by the conquerors, to be sacrificed by treachery, to have recourse to Juba, 
to live in a sort of voluntary exile, or to fall by one's own hand: other choice most 
certainly there was none, if you would not trust to the clemency of the victor. 
Banishment, it must be owned, to a mind that had nothing to reproach itself with, 
would have been the most eligible of all those evils : especially under the reflection 
of being driven from a commonwealth, which presents nothing to our view, but 
What we must behold with pain,— J3d k Marcum Ma,rium K 



LIFE OF CICERO. 101 

unworthy railery when in the camp. Enlisted in the high- 
est quarrel the world had ever seen, and bound by interest 
and friendship to Pompey and his cause, he should have 
been the last to have wounded either by his ridicule, or to 
have shown a littleness of pique at slighted counsels. 

Detained by ill health at Dyrrachium, he was not in the 
disastrous battle of Pharsalia ; but resolved at once, on in- 
telligence of its issue, to make it to himself the end of the 
war.* Cato had still under him a considerable force, and 
offered to Cicero, as superior in dignity, the command of it. 
This he refused : alleging it to be folly to resist a power 
when broken, for which they were no match when entire. 
His refusal so exasperated a son of Pompey, that had not 
Cato interposed, he must have been killed. Declining to 
follow this devoted Roman into Africa, he abandoned the 
cause; submitted to the mercy of the conqueror; and, ap- 
plying all his zeal and address to win a share of his truly 
remarkable clemency, tarried at Brundusium until assured 
of his success. 

There is, perhaps, no part of the life of this extraordinary 
man, more justly subject to reproach, than that of which 
we now treat. The cause of his country abandoned at the 
very first disaster of its army, his means of conciliating 
Caesar, whom at heart he detested, and whom we have 
seen him denouncing as the most profligate of mankind, 
are cringing and despicable ; and he does not leave us a 
doubt that he did in truth desire the triumph of the cause 
which had ever been his aversion.! His despondency was 
quite as great, and every way as ridiculous, as when in 
exile ; and it was not surprising if his agony were far more 
exquisite ; for, when driven from his home by the machina- 
tions of a villain, there was to be found in conscious inno- 

*It is certain from a letter to Cassius, that Cicero and he bad agreed that with 
them the war should close with a single battle. Whence we may judge of the value 
of their adherence. Cicero was afterwards, with great justice, charged with his un- 
worthy conduct in the camp ; nor is his defence in the 2d Philippic in any view of 
it satisfactory.— Phil. 2. xvi. 

t Mihi cum omnia sunt intolerabilia ad dolorem turn maxime, quod in earn causam 
venisse me video, uteasola utilia mihi esse videantur qua? semper nolui,— Ai. 4t% 
Si : xiii. 

9* 



102 SKETCH OF THE 

cence, had his philosophy been equal to it, all that should 
console ; but now, distracted by doubts of the victor's cle- 
mency, and shocked by domestic perfidy, his anguish knew 
no bounds, and was aggravated by a consciousness, he 
scarcely attempts to disguise, of shameful want of fidelity 
to Rome. 

"How heavy," he writes, "are the strokes«of my afflic- 
tion ? In vain do you endeavor to weaken their force, and 
yet your very endeavors are so earnest, that they abate my 
sorrow. Repeat your salutary correspondence as often as 
possible. Continue, above all things, to support me in the 
hope that I have not lost the esteem of the worthy : and 
yet how can you succeed? It is impracticable. But if any 
occasion should put it into your power (as I know none at 
present) to justify me with such men, that would give me 
comfort indeed. But this justification must arise from the 
events that have happened. It has been said, for instance, 
that I ought to have left Italy at the same time with Pom- 
pey. Now his death takes off, in some measure, the 
reproach of my having been wanting in my duty in that re- 
spect. But of all the charges against me, none affects me 
more, than my not going to Africa. Now I reasoned in 
this manner, I did not think the cause of our country ought 
to be left to the defence of barbarous auxiliaries, and the most 
treacherous of all the people in the world, especially as they 
were to act against an army which had gained repeated victo- 
ries. This apology will perhaps not satisfy the people: for I 
hear that a great many worthy Romans have gone to Africa, 
and 1 know that some were there before. Here I feel most 
vulnerable, and here too I must appeal to events. It may 
be said that some, possibly all, those patriots would have 
made their peace with Caesar, if they could. But if they 
should hold out and prevail, in what a light shall I then 
appear? But, say you, what will become of them should 
they be conquered? Why they fall with glory. That in- 
deed is the reflection which torments me."* 

*Ad, Att. xi. vi. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 103 

Whilst at Brundusium, Cicero's feelings received a 
wound which we do not at all doubt was a principal 
and powerful cause of his inordinate sorrow. Indeed he 
speaks of it as the greatest shock he had at any time sus- 
tained. Admirable in most of his domestic relations, and 
at all times devoted to his brother, he learned with dismay, 
that Quintus, unmindful of his affection and constant care 
for him, had fled from the field of Pharsalia to Caesar, and 
to accelerate his pardon had not scrupled to declare that 
his abandonment of his interests and connexion with Pom- 
pey, was altogether owing to his brother's entreaties. 
Cicero was the more concerned, as, added to the pain he 
felt at a brother's baseness, it was well calculated to affect 
him personally with Caesar, to whom he was now preparing 
with all possible grace to submit. Undeceived however, in 
the magnanimity of the conqueror, he was met, not merely 
with kindness, but distinguished honor. 

Careless to conceal his determination to comply with 
the times, and to think with as little regret as possible of his 
past influence in the senate, and authority with the people, 
he was now only anxious to live in safety and repose ; and 
sought them, as we think, somewhat too contentedly under 
a despotism he abhorred. If his own assurances may be 
credited, he hated the boundless power of his master; and 
we know from himself, that so far were the Pompeian chiefs 
from despair, their force, and that soon after their disaster in 
Thessaly, through the alliance of friends in Africa and 
succor from Spain, was greater than that of Caesar, and 
that they were in so high spirits as to talk of coming into 
Italy before their enemy could return from Alexandria. We 
have no doubt, nor had he, that it was Cicero's duty, rather 
than live quietly a slave, to have joined so powerful an 
army fighting for the republic ; and though he may have 
professed to rely on the old apology, that nothing was to 
be hoped for from either, we can regard no cause sustained 
by Cato unworthy of him, and can imagine nothing more 
shallow than his assigned reason for his absence, "that the 
republic ought not to be defended by barbarous and treache- 



104 SKETCH OF THE 

rous auxiliaries."* A devoted patriot is no such epicure 
in his means : he clings to his country in the midst of her 
saddest disasters ; indeed devotion is tested by calamity. 
Such a patriot was Cato ; but the hatred of tyranny and 
scorn of a master, by which the far loftier soul of that Ro- 
man was animated, were strangers in the breast of Tully. 
It is to be sure, a lesson of philosophy to submit with 
patience to hopeless evil ; but we apprehend that he was 
hasty in his application of the rule ; in other words, we be- 
lieve that his despair, if felt at all, or if ever allowable in a 
statesman, was premature, and precipitated by fear and de- 
sire of repose. t 

About this time Cicero divorced Terentia, and married 
Publilia, a very young lady who was his ward, and of large 
fortune. Terentia denied all his charges, and his marriage 
with a younger woman was thought a very good apology for 
her.t Tiro§ affirmed that he took Publilia for her wealth, 
that it might enable him to pay his debts, and this is inferri- 
ble from his own letter to Atticus, in reply to a congratula- 
tory one from that friend. Be this as it may, she soon met 
the fate of her predecessor; being divorced for her sup- 
posed pleasure at the death of his darling daughter Tulliola. 
This child appears to have been his idol, and so pregnant 
was his sorrow at her loss, that, as Plutarch has it, philoso- 
phers from all parts came to comfort him.[| 

* Judiciohoc sumusus, non esse barbaris auxiliis, fallacissimee gentes remp defen- 
dendam.— Ad. Att. xv vi. 

f" We are never authorized to abandon our country to its fate, or to act or ad- 
vise as if it had no resource. There is no reason to apprehend, because ordinary 
means threaten to fail, that no others can spring up. Whilst our heart is whole it 
will find means to make them. The heart of the citizen is a perennial spring of 
energy to the state. Because the pulse seems to intermit, we must not presume 
that it will cease instantly to beat. The public must never be regarded as incurable.'" 

Burke. 

% Plutarch. 

§ A favorite freedman of Cicero, of whom we shall speak hereafter. 

|| There is the following note in Middleton. 

"Coelius Rhodiginus tells us that in the time of Sextus 4th, there was found near 
Rome, in the Appian way over against the tomb of Cicero, the body of a woman, 
whose hair was dressed up in a net work of gold, and which from the inscription 
was thought to be the body of Tullia. It was entire, and so well preserved by 
gpices as to have suffered no injury from time; yet when it was removed into the 
city it mouldered away in three days. But this was only the hasty conjecture of 



LIFE OF CICERO. 105 

On the death of his daughter, he determined to build a 
temple, contemplating something in the nature of an 
apotheosis. It is surprising with what tenacity he clung to 
this purpose ; his letters to Atticus are anxious and unre- 
mitted in relation to it ; deriving as he did from so extraor- 
dinary a whim consolation in his bereavement, and looking 
upon its fulfilment as he would upon that of a solemn reli- 
gious vow. It was, however, ultimately abandoned; but 
not before it had given rise to a charge of incest, made at 
the time, and much propagated, though probably not be- 
lieved in the Augustan age. 

The orator tells us nothing of the philosophers to whom 
Plutarch refers ; but appears to have found the greatest re- 
lief in solitude, where we find him discountenancing, and 
indeed flying from a proposed visit of his young and beauti- 
ful bride, though he is at that time silent as to her supposed 
pleasure at the death of his daughter. 

We introduce the following letter of Sulpicius, the 
greatest lawyer of his day, as it will enable the reader to 
judge of the very estimable character of one most dear to 
Cicero, and as it is thought to be a masterpiece in its kind ; 
and accompany it with another upon a like subject, writ- 
ten by an extraordinary character of the last age, which we 
think may favorably compare with it. It is true the latter 
writer could point to one high source of consolation to 
which Sulpicius was a stranger. 

Servius Sulpicius to M. T. Cicero. 

<{ I was exceedingly concerned, as indeed I ought to be, 
to hear of the death of your daughter Tullia, which I look- 
ed upon as an affliction common to us both. If I had been 
with you I should have made it my business to convince 
you what a real share I take in your grief. Though that 
kind of consolation is but wretched and lamentable, as it 



some learned of that time, which for want of authority to suppoit it, soon vanished 
of itself; for no inscription was ever produced to confirm it, nor has it been men- 
tioned that I know of by any other author that there was any sepulchre of Cicero 
in the Appian way."— Fide Coel. Rhod. Lection, Antiq. 3. cap. 24. 



106 SKETCH OF THE 

is to be performed by friends and relations, who are over- 
whelmed with grief, and cannot enter upon their task with- 
out tears, and seem rather to want comfort themselves than to 
be in a condition to administer itto others. I resolved, there- 
fore, to write to you what occurred upon it to my mind ; 
not that I imagine the same things would not occur to you 
also, but that the force of your grief might possibly hinder 
your attention to them. What reason is there then to dis- 
turb yourself so immoderately on this melancholy occasion? 
Consider how fortune has already treated us, how it has 
deprived us of what ought to be as dear as children : our 
country, credit, dignity, honors. After so miserable a cross 
as this, what addition can it make to our grief to suffer one 
misfortune more? or how can a mind, after being exercised 
in such trials not grow callous, and think every thing else 
of inferior value? but is it for your daughter's sake that 
you grieve ? yet how often must you necessarily reflect, as 
I myself very frequently do, that those cannot be said to 
be hardly dealt with whose lot it has been in these times, 
without suffering any affliction, to exchange life for death. 
For what is there in our present circumstances that would 
give her any great invitation to live? what business ? what 
hopes? what prospect of comfort before her? Was it to 
pass her days in the married state with some young man of 
the first quality ? for you I know on account of your digni- 
ty might have chosen what son-in-law you pleased, out of 
all our youth, to whose fidelity you might have entrusted 
her. Was it then for the sake of bearing children whom 
she might have had the pleasure to see flourishing after- 
wards in the enjoyment of their paternal fortunes, and rising 
gradually to all the honors of the state, and using the liberty 
to which they were born in the protection of their friends 
and clients ? But what is there of all this which was not 
taken away before it was even given to her? But it is an 
evil you will say to lose our children. It is so : yet it is 
a much greater to suffer what we now endure. I cannot help 
mentioning one thing which has given me no small comfort, 
and may help also perhaps to mitigate your grief. On my 



LIFE OF CICERO. 107 

return from Asia, as I was sailing from JSgina towards Me* 
gara, I began to contemplate the prospect around me. 
iEgina was behind, Megara before me: Piraeus on the right, 
Corinth on the left : all which towns, once famous and 
flourishing, now lay overturned and buried in their ruins. 
Upon this sight I could not but think presently within my- 
self: alas, how we poor mortals fret and vex ourselves if 
any of our friends happen to die or be killed, whose life is 
yet so short; when the carcasses of so many noble cities lie 
here exposed before me in one view. Why wilt thou not 
then command thyself Servius, and remember that thou art 
born a man. Believe me, I was not a little comforted by 
this contemplation ; try the force of it therefore if you 
please, upon yourself, and imagine the same prospect be- 
fore your own e}es. But to come nearer home, when you 
consider how many of our greatest men have perished 
lately at once ; what destruction has been made in the em- 
pire ; what havoc in all the provinces ; how can you be so 
shocked to be deprived of the fleeting breath of one little 
woman; who, if she had not died at this time, must neces- 
sarily have died a few years hence, since that was the con- 
dition of her being born. But recall your mind from a re- 
flection of this kind to the consideration of yourself; and 
think rather on what becomes your character and dignity; 
that your daughter lived as long as life was worth enjoying ; 
as long as the republic stood ; had seen her father praetor, 
consul, augur; been married to the noblest of our youth ; 
had tasted every good in life, and when the republic fell 
then quitted it. What ground is there then either for you 
or her to complain of fortune on this account ? In short 
do not forget that you are Cicero, one who has been always 
used to prescribe and give advice to others ; nor imitate 
those paltry physicians who pretend to cure other people's 
diseases, yet are not able to cure their own ; but suggest 
rather to yourself the same lesson which you would give in 
the same case. There is no grief so great which length of 
time will not alleviate; but it would be shameful in you to 
wait for that time and not to prevent it by your wisdom; 



108 SKETCH OF THE 

besides, if there be any sense in the dead, such was her love 
and piety to you, that she must be concerned to see how 
much you afflict yourself. Give this, therefore, to the de- 
ceased, give it to your friends ; give it to your country ; 
that it may have the benefit of your assistance and advice 
whenever there shall be occasion. Lastly, since fortune 
has now made it necessary to us to accommodate ourselves 
to our present situation, do not give any one a handle to 
think that you are not so much bewailing your daughter, as 
the state of the times, and the victory of certain persons. 
I am ashamed to write any more lest I should seem to dis- 
trust your prudence, and will add, therefore, one thing fur- 
ther and conclude. We have sometimes seen you bear 
prosperity nobly, with great honor and applause: let us 
now see that you can bear adversity with the same modera- 
tion, and without thinking it a greater burden than you 
ought to do, lest in the number of all your other virtues this 
one at last be thought wanting. As to myself, when I un- 
derstand that your mind has grown calm and composed, I 
will send you word how all things go on here, and what is 
the state of the province. Adieu. 

Dean Swift to the Lord Treasurer Oxford, on the death 
of his daughter the Marchioness of Caermarthen. 

"My Lord: 

"Your lordship is the only person in the world to whom 
every body ought to be silent upon such an occasion as this, 
which is only to be supported by the greatest wisdom and 
strength of mind; wherein, God knows, the best and the 
wisest of us, who would presume to offer their thoughts, 
are far your inferiors. It is true, indeed, that a great mis- 
fortune is apt to weaken the mind and disturb the under- 
standing. This, indeed, might be some pretence to us to 
administer our consolations, if we had been wholly stran- 
gers to the person gone. But, my lord, who ever had the 
honor to know her, wants a comforter as much as your lord- 
ship; because, though their loss is not so great, yet they 
have not the same firmness or prudence to support the want 



LIFE OF CICERO. 109 

of a friend, a patroness, a benefactor, as you have to sup- 
port that of a daughter. My lord, both religion and reason 
forbid me to have the least concern for that lady's death 
upon her own account, and he must be an ill christian or a 
perfect stranger to her virtues, who would not wish himself, 
with all submission to God Almighty's will, in her condi- 
tion. But your lordship, who has lost such a daughter, and 
we who have lost such a friend, and the world, which has 
lost such an example — have in our several degrees much 
greater cause to lament, than perhaps was ever given by 
any private person before. For, my lord, I have set down 
to think of every private quality that could enter into the 
composition of a lady, and could not single out one, which 
she did not possess in as high a perfection, as human nature 
is capable of. But as to your lordship's own particular, as 
it is an inconceivable misfortune, to have lost such a daugh- 
ter, so it is a possession which few can boast of to have had 
such a daughter. I have often said to your lordship, that I 
never knew any one, by many degrees, so happy in their 
domestic as you; and I affirm, you are so still ; though not 
by so many degrees — from whence it is very obvious, that 
your lordship should reflect upon what you have left, and 
not upon what you have lost. To say the truth, my lord, 
you began to be too happy for a mortal; much more happy 
than is usual with the dispensations of Providence, long to 
continue: you had been the great instrument of preserving 
your country from foreign and domestic ruin: you have had 
the felicity of establishing your family in the greatest lustre 
without any obligation to the bounty of your prince, or any 
industry of your own : you have triumphed over the vio- 
lence and treachery of your enemies, by your courage and 
abilities, and by your steadiness of temper over the incon- 
stancy and caprice of your friends. Perhaps your lordship 
has felt too much complacency within yourself upon this 
universal success: and God Almighty, who would not dis- 
appoint your endeavors for the public, thought fit to punish 
you with a domestic loss, where he knew your heart was 
most exposed ; and at the same time has fulfilled his own 
10 



110 SKETCH OF THE 

wise purposes, by rewarding in a better life that excellent 
creature he has taken from you. I know not, my lord, why 
I write this to you, nor hardly what I am writing. I am 
sure it is not in any compliance with form, it is not from 
thinking that I can give your lordship ease. I think it was 
an impulse upon me that I should say something; and 
whether I shall send you what I have written, I am yet in 
doubt." 

We have said that Cicero hated the boundless power of 
his master: it is certain, nevertheless, that he was to the 
last degree cautious in avoiding all offence, and prodigal of 
praise; "seldom going to Rome, and then only to pay his 
court to Cassar; always one of the -first to vote him addi- 
tional honors, and forward to say something new of him 
and his actions;"* and one would certainly infer from the 
speeches for Marcellus, Ligarius, and Deiotarus, to which 
we shall presently refer, though the first of them reveals a 
desire for the restoration of the republick, that instead of a 
curse, Rome found a beneficent ruler in her sovereign. 
Moreover, though Cicero tells us, that no mother ever more 
bewailed her only son, than he his country;! yet he appears 
to have passed his leisure agreeably enough, with the bo- 
som friends of the usurper; and there is no want of charity 
in supposing, that his sorrow had its origin, as much, if not 
more, in the loss of his own loved authority, than in the 
overthrow of the republick. 

Though generally absent from the public councils, our 
orator, under the dictatorship, frequently, and sometimes 
successfully, displayed his eloquence in behalf of friends ; 
and Caesar, in the height of his power, notwithstanding his 
anger and predetermination to condemn, is said, in the case 
of Ligarius, to have been strangely and completely subdued 
by it. Ligarius was charged with having obstinately pro- 
secuted the war in Africa, an offence, of all others, hateful 
to Cassar, who besides regarded him as in other respects 

* Plutarcb. 
t Patriam eluzl jam gravius et diutius quam ulla mater unicum filium. 

Ep, Fam. iz. zz. 



LIFE OF CICERO. Ill 

unworthy, and resolved that he should not escape punish- 
ment; but with no fears that the charms of eloquence could 
disturb his purpose, he would not forego the pleasure of 
listening to an argument which he was so well fitted to en- 
joy. Plutarch, however, informs us that "he was greatly 
moved when Cicero began, and that the speech, as it pro- 
ceeded, had such a variety of pathos, so irresistible a charm, 
that his color often changed, and it was evident that his 
mind was torn by conflicting passions; at last where the 
orator touched on the battle of Pharsalia, he was so ex- 
tremely affected that his whole frame trembled, the papers 
fell from his hand, and conquered by the force of eloquence, 
he acquitted Ligarius." A doubt of this story has been, 
and we think well, suggested. Valerius Maximus, the chron- 
icler of such incidents, and Quintilian, at all times prone to 
laud his favorite, are silent; and the advocate himself, in al- 
lusion to this effort, speaks of it with a modesty for which he 
was any thing but remarkable.* Besides, the speech, which 
is preserved, perhaps in itself furnishes no weak refutation. 
In the case of the king Deiotarus, charged with a design 
to murder Caesar, when entertained at his palace, Cicero's 
speech, though artful and eloquent, did not prevail. Csesar, 
who seems to have been immoveably prejudiced against 
this king, who had joined with Pompey, would only con- 
sent to a postponement of the cause until in person he 
could further inquire into the facts, which he proposed to 
do on his way to Parthia. This proved, in effect, an ac- 
quittal; and we afterwards find Deiotarus restored to his 
throne and dominions, by an act of Antony, at the instance, 
as Cicero complains, of Fulvia; not that he deemed the 
monarch unworthy of his crown, but that a bribed and 
profligate woman should bestow it. Fulvia, however, took 
no benefit from this arrangement, as on intelligence of 
Cassar's death, the old king repossessed himself of his 
kingdom, and disavowed the acts of his agents, who had 
promised largely in his name.t 

* Ad. Atticum. x. iii. t Midd. 3. 50. Ad. Att. 14. 13. 



112 SKETCH OF THE 

The famous speech for Marcellus, made to thank Caesar 
for the pardon and recall of that friend, was, at a somewhat 
earlier period, pronounced in the senate, and is so exqui- 
sitely beautiful, that one is inclined to withhold the charge 
to which, with the others we have here named, it is so 
justly obnoxious, and of which, though reluctantly, we shall 
have need to speak hereafter. We refer to its boundless 
praise of a man whom its author hated, and who was the 
destroyer of his country's liberties. 

We may learn from Cicero's works, in what manner he 
employed himself during his temporary absence from the 
consular bench. "For being driven," he says, "from the 
public administration, I knew no way so effectual of doing 
good, as by instructing the minds and reforming the morals 
of the youth ; which, in the license of those times, wanted 
every help to restrain and correct them. The calamity of 
the city made this task necessary to me, since in the confu- 
sion of civil arms, I could neither defend it in my own way, 
nor, when it was impossible for me to be idle, could I find 
any thing better to employ myself. My citizens, therefore, 
will pardon, or rather thank me, that when the government 
was fallen into the power of a single person, I neither 
wholly hid or afflicted myself unnecessarily; nor acted in 
such a manner, as to seem angry at the man or times: nor 
yet flattered or admired the fortune of another, so as to be 
displeased with my own. For I had learnt from Plato and 
philosophy, that these turns and revolutions of states are 
natural : sometimes into the hands of a few, sometimes of 
the many, sometimes of one; as this was the case of our 
own republick, so when I was deprived of my former post 
in it, I betook myself to these studies, in order to relieve 
my mind from the sense of our common miseries, and to 
serve my country at the same time in the best manner I was 
able; for my books supplied the place of my votes in the 
senate and of my speeches to the people, and I took up 
philosophy as a substitute for my management of the state." 
And again, in the book of offices : ''My whole diversion is 
to pass away my time and my cares upon writing, and I 



LIFE OF CICERO. 113 

overthrow of the government, than I did in many years 
before, when it was flourishing.* 

It was in this retreat, engaged, as we have seen, that he 
prepared many of his most esteemed productions ; and we 
cannot but lament, that with firmness of purpose, he had 
not withstood all attempts to wean him from pursuits so 
useful to mankind and consoling to himself: but on the 
triumphant return of Caesar from Spain, whither he had 
gone against the sons of Pompey, Cicero was again pre- 
vailed with to mingle in affairs; and the whole residue of 
his life was one unbroken scene of danger, perplexitv and 
fruitless toil. 

About this time the dictator was his guest. "Well," he 
writes, "this formidable visit is at last over without my hav- 
ing reason to repent of my guest, who seemed to enjoy 
every thing he met with. You must know then, that on 
the evening before, being the 18th, when he came to the 
house of Philip, it was so crowded with soldiers, to the 
number of two thousand, that there was scarcely a room 
empty for Caesar himself to sup in. This, I own, gave me 
apprehensions as to my own case next day, but I was de- 
livered from them by Barba Cassius, who appointed me a 
guard. Thus the soldiers encamped in the field, and my 
house was kept clear. He passed the 19th at Philip's house 
till noon, without suffering any person to be admitted to 
him, being busied, I supposed, in settling accounts with 
Balbus. From thence, he walked to my house by the shore. 
After two o'clock, he went into the bath. He then heard 
the verses upon Mamurra,! without changing his counte- 
nance. After this, he was anointedt and set down to 

* Divin. 2. 2.— De. Fin. 1. 3. De Off. 3. 1. 

f These verses were written by Catullus, and are still extant. Mamurra' was a 
Hoinau knight and general of the artillery to Caesar, but noted for extravagancy and 
luxury in living : the verses in question lashed Caesar as well as Mamurra. — Guthrie. 

% The Romans, at this time, anointed their guests with essences and perfumes, 
often lavishly. The magnificence of Otho, in this respect, is spoken of by Plutarch, 
who relates, that Nero liaving used a very precious perfume in a feast, and thinking 
he had carried profusion very far, by shedding it over the head and whole body of 
Otbo, this last in a feast he gave the emperor, next day, by means of pipes of silver 
and gold, issuing suddenly from different places in the hall, poured out the same 
perfume like water, and deluged the guests and the floor.— D'.Zrnay, Plut. in Oalb. 

10* 



114 SKETCH OF THE 

supper, when he ate heartily and drank freely; for you must 
know he had taken an emetic, and indeed every thing was 
well dressed, and the best of the kind. 

"But of our pleasures, that was but the last, 
For wit and humor seasoned the repast." 

"Besides Caesar's table, his retinue was plentifully served 
in three other dining rooms, and nothing was wanting to 
the entertainment of his freedmen of the second rank, and 
his slaves : for his freedmen of the better sort were elegantly 
treated. In short, 1 came off like myself, though let me 
tell you, he is not a guest to whom one would say, c pray 
do me the honor to call as you return.' No — no, one visit 
is enough. We talked enough about business, but a great 
deal about learning. To conclude, he was free, easy and 
happy. He told me that he would pass one day at Pu- 
teoli, and another at Baiae. Thus I have given you an ac- 
count of my entertainment, or rather of the manner of my 
entertainment of this great man, which put me to some in- 
convenience, but to no trouble. 55 

Before we come to the great conspiracy of Brutus, we 
are tempted to transcribe the following passage from the 
"Melanges Philosophiques" of M. Ophellot. The estimate 
of Caesar, it presents, though unsustained, as we think, by 
the facts, is nevertheless highly graphic, and will enable the 
reader to see the light in which a perhaps sound philosophy 
has viewed a character endowed beyond doubt, with many 
of the noblest qualities. M. Ophellot is, however, wrong 
in asserting that Brutus was the son of Caesar. That no- 
tion is now repudiated, and there was, in truth, a difference 
of but fifteen years in their ages. 

"If after the lapse of eighteen centuries,' 5 observes the 
writer, "the truth may be published without offence, a phi- 
losopher might, in the following terms, censure Caesar with- 
out calumniating him, and applaud him without exciting 
his blushes. He had one predominant passion: it was the 
love of glory, and he passed forty years of his life in seek- 
ing opportunities to foster and encourage it. His soul en- 
tirely absorbed in ambition, did not open itself to other 



LIFE OF CICERO. 115 

impulses. He cultivated letters, but he did not love them 
with enthusiasm, because he had not leisure to become the 
first orator at Rome. He corrupted the one half of the 
Roman ladies, but his heart had no concern in the fiery ar- 
dor of his senses. In the arms of Cleopatra he thought of 
Pompey ; and this singular man, who disdained to have a 
partner in the empire of the world, would have blushed to 
have been for one instant the slave of a woman. We must 
not imagine that Caesar was born a warrior, as Sophocles 
and Milton were born poets. For if nature had made him 
a citizen of Sybaris, he would have been the most volup- 
tuous of men. If, in our day, he had been born in Penn- 
sylvania, he would have been the most inoffensive of Qua- 
kers, and would not have disturbed the tranquility of the 
new world. The moderation with which he conducted him- 
self after his victories has been highly extolled; but in this 
he showed his penetration, not the goodness of his heart. 
It was requisite that he should have the appearance of cle- 
mency, if he inclined that Rome should forgive him his 
victories. But what greatness of mind is there in a gene- 
rosity which follows on a usurpation of supreme power. 
He had no sooner begun to reflect, than he admired Sylla, 
hated him, and yet wished to imitate him. At the age of 
fifteen, he formed the project of being dictator. It was 
thus that the president Montesquieu conceived, in his early 
youth, the idea of the 'Spirit of Laws. 5 Physical qualities, 
as well as moral causes, contributed to give strength to his 
character. Nature, which had made him to command, had 
given him an air of dignity. He had acquired that soft and 
insinuating eloquence, which is perfectly suited to seduce 
vulgar minds, and has a powerful influence on the most 
cultivated. His love of pleasure, was a merit with the fair 
sex, and women who even in a republick can draw to them 
the attention and suffrages of men, have the highest im- 
portance in desperate times. The ladies of his age were 
charmed with the prospect of having a dictator whom they 
might subdue by their attractions. In vain did the genius 
of Cato watch for some time to sustain the libertv of his 



116 SKETCH OF THE 

country. It was not equal to contend with that of Caesar. 
Of what avail were the eloquence, the philosophy, and the 
virtue of this republican, when opposed by a man who had 
the address to debauch the wife of every citizen whose 
interests he meant to engage, and who, with the haughty 
temper of a despot, wept at the age of thirty, that he had 
not conquered the world like Alexander, and who was more 
desirous to be the first man in a village, than the second in 
Rome. Caesar had the good fortune to exist in times of 
trouble and civil commotions, when the minds of men are 
put into a ferment; when opportunities of great actions are 
frequent; when talents are every thing, and when those 
who can only boast of their virtues, are nothing. If he had 
lived a hundred years sooner, he would have been no more 
than an obscure villain, and instead of giving laws to the 
world, would not have been able to produce any confusion 
in it. I will here be bold to advance an idea which may 
appear paradoxical to those who weakly judge men from 
what they achieve, and not from the principle which leads 
them to act. Nature formed in the same mould Caesar, 
Mohammed, Cromwell and Kouli Khan. They all of them 
united to genius that profound policy which renders it so 
powerful. They all of them had an evident superiority 
over those by whom they were surrounded; they were con- 
scious of this superiority, and they made others conscious 
of it. They were all of them born subjects, and became 
fortunate usurpers. Had Caesar been placed in Persia, he 
would have made the conquest of India; in Arabia, he 
would have been the founder of a new religion ; in London, 
he would have stabbed his sovereign or have procured his 
assassination, under the sanction of the laws. He reigned 
with glory over men whom he reduced to be slaves, and 
under one aspect he is to be considered a hero, under an- 
other as a monster. But it would be unfortunate, indeed, 
for society, if the possession of superior talents, gave indi- 
viduals a right to disturb its repose. Usurpers, accordingly, 
have flatterers, but no friends ; strangers respect them ; 
their subjects complain and submit ; it is in their own fami- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 117 

have done more that way now, in a little while, since the 
lies that humanity finds its avengers. Caesar was assassi- 
nated by his son ; Mohammed was poisoned by his wife; 
Kouli Khan was massacred by his nephew, and Cromwell 
only died in his bed because his son Richard was a philoso- 
pher. Caesar, the tyrant of his country; Caesar, who de- 
stroyed the agents of his crimes if they failed in address; 
Caesar, in fine, the husband of every wife, and wife of every 
husband — has been accounted a great man by the mob of 
writers. But it is only the philosopher who knows how 
to mark the barrier between celebrity and greatness. The 
talents of this singular man, and the good fortune which 
constantly attended him till the moment of his assassina- 
tion, have concealed the enormities of his actions." 

It was said of Caesar by Cato, that he came with sobriety 
and meditation to the subversion of the republic. If to 
these we add his valor, good fortune, and matchless talents, 
his extraordinary success cannot surprise us. He was now 
in the complete possession of every substantial power of a 
monarch ; and though his rule was justly offensive to pa- 
triotism, it came recommended by its vigor and admirable 
clemency, and but for a wonderful departure from habitual 
prudence, might have been stable. The destroyer of the 
liberties of Rome — he next attacked her prejudices, and 
from a senseless longing for the trappings of power, he lost 
at once its essence and his life. A report, by his means, 
was spread abroad, that the Sibylline verses had foretold the 
invincibility of Parthia, unless assailed by a king, and now 
prepared for his eastern expedition, Cotta, his creature, 
one of the guardians of those verses, was directed to move 
the senate at its next meeting to decree to him that title. 
Thus by his impatience to be in name as in power, a king, 
were the patriots stimulated to give effect to their already 
conceived design to restore the republic by his murder. 

Marcus Junius Brutus, the chief of the conspiracy, de- 
scended from that Brutus who destroyed the monarchy of 
Tarquin, had deeply mourned the lost freedom of his 
country, and had resolved at every hazard, to destroy the 



113 SKETCH OF THE 

tyrant. "He was the more animated to this great enter- 
prize by the entreaties of Cassius and others, imploring him 
to undertake the deliverance of Rome, and urging it as a 
high debt entailed upon him by by his family."* Sprung as 
we have said from the great patriot of his name, and a de- 
scendant also through his mother, of Servilius Ahala, fa- 
mous for the murder of Moelius, who had seditiously aspired 
to the monarchy,! Brutus was himself the uncompromis- 
ing enemy of tyranny, and mindful of the virtues of his 
race, is on all hands allowed to have been prompted to his 
great act by love of country, and that alone ; whilst his 
associates are generally supposed to have been impelled, 
not so much by hatred of the imperial power, as by envy of 
its possessor. 

Brutus had shared largely in the affections of Caesar; had 
been signally favored and advanced by him, and was in 
every way so distinguished that he would have been the 
first man in Rome could he have "had patience awhile to 
be the second, and waited till time had wasted the power 
of Caesar, or dimmed the lustre of his great actions. "J But 
neither gratitude to Caesar, nor well founded hopes of pow- 
er could shake the determined purpose of his soul. 

The motives of Cassius, the next of rank in this lofty 
scheme, have been as we have stated, but probably with no 
justice, suspected. His hostility to the usurper was thought 
at the time to have sprung from a conversion to his own use 
by Caesar, of some lions, which he had provided when nomi- 
nated aedile; and in our day, it is by many believed that this 
Roman did what he did in envy of great Caesar;§ but "it 
would seem that he had a natural aversion to the whole 
race of tyrants, which he showed even when he was at 
school with Faustus the son of Sylla. When Faustus was 
boasting among the boys of the unlimited power of his 
father, Cassius rose and struck him on the face. The 
friends and tutors of Faustus would have taken it on them- 
selves to punish the insult, but Pompey prevented it, and 
sending for the boys, examined them himself; upon which 

* Plutarch in Brut. f Ibid, J Ibid, $ Shakspears. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 119 

Cassius said, come along Faustus, repeat if you dare before 
Pompey the expressions which provoked me, that I may 
punish you in the same manner; such was the disposition 
of Cassius."* He had moreover a stimulus to the act 
which has made him famous in the renown of his ances- 
tors, no less zealous than those of Brutus for the public 
liberty;! and it is certain, not only performed his part with 
sagacity and unflinching courage, but bravely died, rather 
than beg the mercy of his conquerors ; falling, at his own 
earnest entreaty, by the hand of his freedman Pindarus.t 

The rest of the chiefs were of different character, and 
even more than Brutus, bound by good offices to their vic- 
tim ; "and the remaining conspirators," says Middleton, 
"partjy noble, and partly obscure, were prompted by per- 
sonal hate, and eager to revenge the ruin of their fortunes 
and families." 

The circumstances of the death of this noblest of all 
usurpers, are too familiar to need full notice here. It is 
enough to say, that the assassins prevailed, and the mighty 
Julius fell ; when Brutus, lifting the bloody dagger, called 
aloud upon Cicero, who was present, § to congratulate with 
him upon the recovery of their liberties. || 

The conspirators had not seen fit to impart their desigD 
to Cicero; and we incline to believe, in all deference to 
Dr. Middleton, that, as Plutarch has surmised, they were 
influenced in withholding the secret, by their fears of his 
natural deficiency of courage, as well as his time of life, at 
which the boldest begin to droop ; nor can we think with 
the Doctor, that a sense of his character and dignity could 
have prevented the disclosure of an intended act, than 
which its perpetrators conceived none more exalted ; and 



* Plutarch. 

fTn the second philippic, Cicero speaks of Cassius as born of a family, impatient 
not only of sovereignty, but superiority. 

% Plutarch in Ant. 

$&uid mihi attulerit ista domini mutatio, prater lsetitiam quam occulis cepi justo 
interritu tyranni. Ad. Att. 14. xiv. 

||Ceesare interfecto, statim cruentem alte extollens Marcus Brutus pugionem, Cice- 
ronem nominatim exclamavit, atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus.— Philk, 
2.12. 



120 SKETCH OF THE 

which, in Cicero's own judgment, repeatedly avowed, was 
worth the most glorious immortality.* 

The tragedy which had been consummated, was, as is 
known, fruitless, so far as the recovery of freedom was its 
object; and there was in the plan at its inception, a defect, 
growing out of the sense of justice and humanity of Bru- 
tus, fatal to its success, and ultimately to himself. The 
death of Antony had been urged by many of the con- 
spirators, as scarcely less important than that of Caesar. 
Cassius so thought it: but with the rest, was overruled by 
Brutus, who was of opinion, that "an action, undertaken in 
support of justice and the laws, should have nothing unjust 
about it."t Cicero often spoke of, and deplored this defect, 
and leads us to believe, that had he been in the secret, it 
would never have occurred. "Oh that you had invited 
me," he says to Cassius, "to that glorious feast you exhi- 
bited on the ides of March. Be assured, I would have 
suffered none of it to have gone off untouched." And to 
Trebonius he writes: "to say the truth, when I reflect that 
it is owing to the favor of so worthy a man as you, that An- 
tony now lives to be our bane, I am sometimes inclined to 
be a little angry with you for taking him aside, when Caesar 
fell." It is, however, impossible to disapprove the mag- 

* In the tragedy of Julius Caesar, Bratus assigns a reason for the orator's exclusion, 
from which bigotry must be inferred. We think, however, that in many of those 
measures, where that fault may have been suspected, there was nothing more than 
an honest assurance of their wisdom. At any rate, if Cicero were a bigot, it is cer- 
tain that on some occasions, he took the course not unusual with that class of per- 
sons, and with some stoutness denied it. — id. Brutum, 15. 

Cas. But what of Cicero ? Shall we sound him? 

I think he will stand very strong with us.- 
Casca. Let us not leave him out. 
Cin. No, by no means. 

Met. O let us have him ; for his silver haira 

Will purchase us a good opinion, 

And buy men's voices to commend our deeds : 

It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands ; 

Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, 

But all be buried in his gravity. 
Brutus. O, name him not ; let us not break with him ; 

For he will never follow any thing 

That other men begin. 
Cas. Then leave him out. Shalcspeare. 

t Plutarch. 



,, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 121 

nanimous justice of Brutus ; and this act is, of itself, proof 
of the holiness of his design. 

It must here be conceded, that Antony, consul at the 
time, showed himself a far abler politician than the most of 
them. Terribly alarmed at first, he absconded in the guise 
of a slave ; but understanding that the death of the dicta- 
tor was alone intended, and that the conspirators were 
friendly to pacific measures, he was emboldened to invite 
them down from the capitol; and to assure them, sent his 
son as a hostage; upon which he proceeded with great art 
to mature the plans to which we shall presently refer. He 
also, about this time, brought Lepidus, who was afterwards 
triumvir, into his views. That general was then at the head 
of a powerful force, in the immediate neighborhood of the 
city, had contemplated the seizure of the government for 
himself, and, in the distraction of the time, might have suc- 
ceeded, had not Antony dissuaded him, ''representing the 
hazard and difficulty of the attempt, while the senate, the 
city, and all Italy, were against them ; that the only way to 
effect what they wished, was to dissemble their real pur- 
pose, to recommend pacific counsels, and lull their adver- 
saries asleep, till they had provided a strength sufficient to 
oppress them ; and that as soon as things were ripe, he 
would join with him very heartily in avenging Caesar's 
death." Lepidus, a weak vain man, was easily prevailed 
upon to submit to his direction, and was kept in Italy so 
long as his presence was of service to him. 

The senate being summoned, he proposed an amnes- 
ty, and had address to secure the ratification of the acts 
of Caesar, by which he was afterwards enabled to direct 
matters at pleasure. These steps of the consul have gained 
for him the praise of Plutarch, who seems to have thought 
him honest in his declared desire of peace, that he acquit- 
ted himself in this affair with the highest reputation, and 
that by saving Rome from a civil war, he proved himself a 
very able and valuable politician. It is due, however, to 
Cicero, to state, that from the first, he had no confidence 
in his assurances, and says, in one of his philippics, 
11 



122 SKETCH OF THE 

that he remonstrated against treating with him, that it could 
not be done with safety, that as long as he was afraid of them 
he would promise any thing, but that when his fears were 
over, he would be like himself, and perform nothing; so 
that whilst the other consular senators were going back- 
wards and forwards in offices of mediation, he adhered to 
his point, staid with the rest in the capitol, and did not see 
Antony for the two first days.* 

In the funeral oration which was made by Antony, on 
this occasion, he was so eloquent in his praise of Cassar, 
and dwelt with such pathos, upon his love and liberality to 
the Roman people, that to remain in Rome was no longer 
safe for the conspiratois, so greatly was the popular feeling 
inflamed. The oration had been made with this view, 
and with the exhibition of Csesar's bloody robe, succeeded 
effectually: most of them leaving Rome at once, and Ci- 
cero soon following. It would seem, from his reception in 
the country, that out of the city the joy at the dictator's 
death was extravagant; and, in truth, though the consul 
had succeeded in creating such disorders, his power was, in 
a great degree, confined to the soldiers and strangers, and 
particularly Jews, who had not forgotten Pompey for his 
outrage to their temple, and were warm in their regard for 
Ccesar.t "It is impossiDle," says Cicero, "to express what 
joy there is every where, how all people flock about one, 
how greedy they are to hear an account of it from me! yet 
what strange politics do we pursue ? What a solecism do 
we commit ? To be afraid of those whom we have subdued ; 
to defend his acts, for whose decth we rejoice; to suffer 
tyranny to live, when the tyrant is killed, and the republick 
to be lost when our liberty is recovered.; 

Antony having by his art, or to say the truth, his great 



* 2 Phil. sxxv. 
tin a contest between Hircanus and Aristobulus, for the crown, Pompey, when 
entrusted with the conduct of the war against Mithridates, had seized the opportu- 
nity to take Jerusalem, and though he spared the treasures of the temple, he had pro- 
faned it by his entrance with his officers into the holy of holies, where none but th* 
high prieit was admitted. 

t Ad. Atticum. 14. 6. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 123 

abilities, deceived Brutus and the rest, and secured such 
decrees from the senate as enabled him to act, had well 
used the leisure which the too great confidence of the re- 
publican party had afforded, had gathered troops about him 
with which he forced other decrees reluctantly conceded, 
and, in short, made himself for the time, irresistible. The 
oversight, in exempting him from death, was now obvious; 
and it was clear, that Cicero's counsels, if attended to, might 
have delayed the fall of the republic. 

His hatred, which, in truth, had never been extinguished, 
though it suited him to feign even the warmest regard for 
Cicero, was now so much embittered by the friendship of 
the latter with Brutus, and his great weight in the adminis- 
tration, that we are told he could hardly bear his presence;* 
and we cannot, think that the dislike of Cicero was at all 
less rancorous, though it is certain that about this time, in 
a letter to the consul, his civilities were unmeasured. By 
the way, it is astonishing to see with what adulation he often 
addresses men, of whose character and principles he pro- 
fessedly felt with abhorrence. Is it possible, for example, 
without amazement, to read the following letter. Antony 
informed him that he had obtained from Caesar the recall of 
Sextus Clodius, the son of Cicero's old enemy, but that he 
was determined not to make use of that indulgence, unless 
it met his approval. 

"There is one reason," he replies, "why I wish you had 
treated with me in person, rather than by letter, for then 
you might have discovered the affection I bear you, not 
only by the expression of my lips, but by the emotions of 
my countenance. You endeared yourself first to me by 
your attachment, and next by your services to my person; 
and your public behavior at this period has been such, as 
sets you equal to any man alive in my esteem. Your let- 
ter, which is so full of love and respect for me, has affected 
me in such a manner, that I seem not to bestow, but re- 
ceive a fayor, since your request is attended with an assur- 

* Plutarch. 



124 SKETCH OF THE 

ance, that unless I give you leave, you will not deliver an 
old friend because he is my enemy, while at the same time 
you might effect his deliverance without danger or diffi- 
culty."* In sending Antony's letter, and his answer to it, 
to Atticus, Cicero writes : "I send you a copy that you may 
see with what respect he treats me; but, at the same time, 
you must readily conclude his request to be so abandoned, so 
scandalous, so pernicious, that we are tempted to wish that 
Caesar were again alive: for what Caesar never would have 
done, never would have suffered to be even proposed, he 
is now proposing from Caesar's forged journals. For my 
part, I most cheerfully yield to Antony's request, which he 
would have carried through, even though I had opposed it." 
Comment here is emphatically needless; the letter, how- 
ever, appears to have been too strong, even for its writer's 
eulogist; he omits it, with others, well calculated to weaken 
his applause. 

Again, for his late son-in-law Dolabella, consul with An- 
tony, Cicero had no feeling of respect ; and, in truth, as 
Middleton has it, had long known him to be void of all 
virtue and good principles; yet in a letter to Atticus, and 
in another to Dolabella himself, he extols the conduct of 
the latter, in the suppression of some disorders growing out 
of a frantic display of friendship for Caesar, in terms of such 
actual rapture, that one would suppose he deemed his con- 
duct on a level with the great deed of Brutus. Besides, the 
letter to Dolabella abounds in professions of ardent per- 
sonal attachment. It is vain to justify such duplicity as 
called for by the interests of the republick. Cicero is guilty 
of it, when no such motive can be alledged, or could have 
operated.! 



*To use one of Cicero's own remarks, "it was on this occasion fortunate that let- 
ters do not blush." 

t We rather suspect that the only effect of this high wrought letter to Dolabella, 
who was beyond all doubt a scoundrel, was to induce him to withhold payment of a 
considerable debt to his panegyrist; for we find Cicero, a short time afterwards, 
telling Atticus, that owing to this fact, he had sent Dolabeila a pretty sharp letter, 
which he believes, if it had no other effect, would have that of making him not daj e 
to look him in the face. Ad. Att. xiv. xviii. 



LIFE OF CICEHO. 125 

He is at this period unreserved in his expressions of ha- 
tred of the fair queen of Egypt, who was in Rome when 
her illustrious paramour was slain, and seems to have had 
an interview with the enchantress in Caesar's gardens, at 
which he was promised a variety of presents, which are not 
named, but supposed to have been of a nature to delight 
such a man : probably statues, or curiosities from Egypt for 
his libraries.* The promise was never fulfilled : but we can 
scarcely ascribe the strong feeling of the letters we present, 
to that fact; but rather to the haughty carriage of the queen, 
or to some other indignity, at which they appear to hint; — 
connected, it may be, with the presents themselves. "The 
flight of the queen," he writes, "gives me no pain.f I 
should be glad to hear what further news there is of her 
and her young Caesar.t I hate the queen ; her agent Am- 
monius, the witness and sponsor of her promise to me, 
knows that I have cause. They were things only proper 
to a man of letters and suitable to my character ; so that I 
should not scruple to proclaim them from the rostra. Her 
other agent, Sara, is a rascal, and has been rude to me. I 
never saw him at my house but once: and when I asked him 
civilly, what commands he had for me, he said that he came 
to look for Atticus. As to the pride of the queen, when I 
saw her in the gardens, I can never think of it without re- 
sentment. I will have nothing, therefore, to do with them; 
they take me to have neither spirit, or even feelings left. J> § 

Antony had gained so great power, by means of Csssar's 
funeral, and seemed so willing further to inflame the pas- 
sions, which the ensanguined robe, and his own pathetic 
eloquence had evoked, that it was generally supposed he 
would attempt an absolute rule. Cieero, seeing how formi- 
dable he had become, and that there was no prospect, at 
least not until the new consuls Hirtius and Pansa came 
into office, of a diminution of his power, and mindful of his 
real hatred, designed at first to avoid all danger, and ac- 
company Dolabella into Syria; but at the entreaty of the 



*Middleton. f A <*« A "* 14 « 8 « JIbid, 20. $ Ibid. 15. 16. 

11* 



126 SKETCH OF THE 

consuls elect, was prevailed with to drop that purpose; and 
though he had no great reliance upon their scheme, pro- 
mised to be with them when in power, at which time, they 
assured him that with his assistance, Antony might be 
crushed.* In the mean time, it was his intention to, go to 
Athens, in which he was the more confirmed, as in addition 
to his own safety, he thought he could be of great service 
in completing the education of his" son, then at that seat of 
learning; and he in fact set out towards Greece; but the 
royage being arrested by a succession of contrary winds, 
on intelligence of a most favorable change in Antony, "that 
he had discharged his wicked advisers; dropped his preten- 
sions to the province of Gaul; and was disposed to submit 
to the authority of the senate, and treat amicably with Bru- 
tus and Cassius, the Grecian visit was abandoned. f"' In an 
interview, the last he ever had with that true and noble 
Roman. Brutus frankly told him that he had escaped two 
great imputations on his character: the one, of a too hasty 
despair of the common cause ; the other, the vanity of go- 
inor to the Olympic games ; at which Cicero thanks the 
winds for preserving him from infamy. 

He discovered before he reached Rome that he had been 
deceived, as to the conciliatory views of Antony ; and though 
his reception was to the last degree flattering, "almost a 
whole day being spent at the gates, and on his way home, 
in compliments and congratulations,"! he declined to attend 
the senate, alledging. in excuse, the fatigues of his journey, 
but in reality, as is said, in dread of assassination. The 
consul was highly incensed at his absence, and threatened, 
if he did not come, to burn down his house; but was at 
last persuaded to desist. At the next meeting of the se- 
nate, however, when Antony did not think fit to confront 
him, Cicero spoke as became a patriot, "did not hesitate 
incidentally to extol the noble act of Brutus ; rebuked with 
no reserve the baseness of the senate, in decreeing extra- 
ordinary honors to the memory of Cassar; polluting the 

♦Plutarch. f Ad. Att. xvi. viii. 1 Phil. J Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 127 

republic with so detestable a religion, and blending the 
honors of the gods with those of a dead man ; and told 
them that in case of any accidents, of which many seemed 
to surround him, he would leave that day's speech as a 
monument of his perpetual fidelity to his country. That 
he had now reaped the full fruits of his return, by giving a 
full testimony of his constant adherence to the public in- 
terests ; that he would use the same liberty oftener if he 
found he could do it with safety, if not he would reserve 
himself as well as he could to better times, not so much 
from regard to himself as to the republic."* 

He seems to have thought very early after this speech 
that the state of things referred to at its conclusion had 
arrived, and to have determined to resort to the alternative 
he speaks of, by withdrawal to reserve himself till better 
times, for the republic. The propriety of this step, viewed 
in relation to his stern duty as a patriot, may admit of ques- 
tion; but of the imminency of his danger we think there 
can be none. The object of his early and unextinguished 
hate, there was no hope of mercy from Antony: he be- 
lieved him to have been privy to the murder of Caesar, his 
friend and the parent of his power, knew him to have ex- 
tolled that act, and above all, saw him in the way of his 
hopes, as an eloquent assailant in the senate. By policy, 
therefore, as well as hatred, was Antony impelled to his 
ruin ; and the late violence foreboded no delicacy in his 
means of destruction. The rupture now inevitable, Cicero 
consulting his personal safety, withdrew to a villa near Na- 
ples, where he prepared his second philippic, which appears 
as if pronounced in the senate, but was not so in fact; nor 
was it immediately published. 

We may learn his fears, and the grounds of them, from 
letters to Cassius and Plancus, written a short time after the 
first philippic. But this he writes, "is a danger which I am 

* Philippic 1. 4. 6. 15. Cicero named his speeches against Antony, of which 
there are fourteen, and which were also called Antonians, after the famous speeches 
of Demosthenes against the king of Macedon, which as every one knows were 
styled philippics. 



128 SKETCH OF THE 

not afraid to hazard, since he gives me a share in the hon- 
ors of that glorious deed; hence it is, however, that neither 
Piso, who first ventured to inveigh against the measures of 
Antony, nor myself who made a speech to the same pur- 
pose, about a month afterwards, nor Publius Servilius, who 
followed my example, can any of us appear with safety in 
the senate ; for this inhuman gladiator has evidently a de- 
sign upon our lives, and he hoped to have rendered me the 
first victim of his cruel vengeance. With this sanguinary 
view he entered the senate on the 19th of September, hav- 
ing several days before retired to the villa of Metellus in 
order to prepare an inflammatory speech against me." 
And again to Plancus : "Agreeably to the friendship which 
exists between us, my services should not be wanting to 
advance your dignities, if I could have been present in the 
senate consistently with my honor or safety. But no man 
can =freely deliver his opinions in that assembly without 
being exposed to the violences of a military force, that is 
licensed to commit its outrages with impunity, and it would 
ill become my rank and character to speak upon public 
affairs, in a place where I am more attentively observed and 
more closely surrounded by soldiers than by senators. But 
where your interests may be equally advanced without my 
concurrence, suffer me, I entreat you, to pay a proper re- 
gard to my own dignity and preservation." 

It has been seen that Brutus and Cassius, deeming them- 
selves in danger at Rome, had retired, in consequence of 
the excitement growing out of Caesar's funeral, in which 
the treachery of Antony had been but too plainly revealed. 
At the time of their departure, they do not seem to have 
fixed upon any plan of action, find indeed it was with that 
view, that they withdrew to a. villa, belonging to Brutus, 
near Lanuvium. Determined to act all in honor, at this 
momentous crisis of their fortunes, no scheme was yet ma- 
tured, and it was concluded to await patiently the meeting 
of the senate, when as they supposed, the consuls would 
disclose their humor and views both with regard to them- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 129 

selves and the republic* And here it is impossible to 
withhold our admiration from that high-souled devotion to 
Rome, and neglect of self, by which from the outset they 
had been animated, and now in their noble declaration re- 
vealed "that their conduct should give no handle to a civil 
war; and that they would submit to a perpetual exile, if it 
would contribute in any manner, to the public concord; 
being content with the consciousness of their act as the 
greatest honor they could enjoy."! 

Meanwhile Antony, with accustomed skill, was sparing 
no effort to consolidate his power, and had prevailed by 
bribes and otherwise in securing the veteran soldiers to his 
interests. In this there was but little difficulty, as their 
love of Caesar was ardent, and his memory the more dear, 
because of his recent and so tragic death. Above all, he had 
possessed himself of the sinews of power, being now master 
of the immense public treasure which had been placed in the 
temple of Ops, and Calpurnia, the wife of Caesar, having 
entrusted to him her large private fortune amounting to 
four thousand talents. To these means he added another 
most effective. The senate, it will be remembered, had 
ratified the acts of the usurper, and Antony having made 
himself the depositary of his papers, was enabled, on pre- 
tence of anxiety, to give effect to his real designs, and by 
forging others to suit his own purposes, to control, as we 
have hinted, in a great degree, the movements of the state. 
There is good ground, nevertheless, to believe that the 
public feeling in regard to him, was by no means friendly, 
and it may be thought from hints in the philippics, and let- 
ters of Cicero, that the whole empire, if there had been a 
leader, would at this time have declared against him, and 
that Dolabella if honest might have saved the republic. 
Plutarch also, in his life of Brutus, says that Antony be- 
came obnoxious to the people; for they suspected him of 

* Middleton. 
f Testati edictis, libenter se vel in perpetuo exilio victuros, dum reipub con- 
6taret concordia, nee ullam belli civilis praebituros materiara: plurimum sibi hono- 
ris esse in conscientia facti sui.— Vel. Pat, 2. 62. 



130 SKETCH OF THE 

erecting another kind of monarchy. It is not improbable 
that the consul may have had his fears, and it is certain that 
he felt the importance of his colleague; for he at once 
purchased his alliance by a division of the treasure he had 
seized, and by a promise of a share in plunder to come; * " 
nor is there any doubt that it was principally through his 
means, that the presence of Brutus and Cassius, who were 
praetors, was dispensed with ; though valuable to him as 
was their absence, he was opposed to the commission to 
purchase corn in Asia and Sicily, at this time entrusted to 
them; well knowing that it would offer a pretext as well 
as facilities for strengthening the cause in which they were 
enlisted.! They, on the other hand, had narrowly watched 
his irregular course: but had up to this moment shown 
their displeasure only in remonstrance ; still cherishing, it 
would seem, some hopes of his probity. Indeed Brutus 
had hopes of him to the last, and thought it not improba- 
ble that his love of glory would inspire him with an emu- 
lation to join in restoring the commonwealth.! On the 
expiration, however, of their praetorship, Brutus and Cas- 
sius rejected the meaner provinces, which through his in- 
trigues had been confided to them, and left Italy ; the one 
for Macedonia, the other for Syria, governments designed 
for them by Cassar. But it was no part of Antony's inten- 
tion to abandon these without a struggle ; he had them, 
therefore, decreed to himself and colleague, and despatch- 
ing his brother Caius into Macedonia, to take possession, 
Dolabella repaired to Syria; and now was in effect pro- 
claimed the war, which closed at Philippi, in the final ruin 
of the republic. 

While in Athens, Brutus though apparently devoted to 
letters was secretly preparing for war. and won by his kind- 
ness the Roman youth, who were then students in that 
city; and among others the young Cicero, on whom says 
Plutarch he bestowed the highest encomiums; declaring 
that he could never cease admiring the spirit of that young 

* Middleton. t Appian. X Plutarch, 



LIF OF CICERO. 131 

man, who bore such mortal hatred to tyrants. Of this son 
we shall speak hereafter, and will now only say of him, 
that though frail to no common extent, we believe posteri- 
ty to have been too lavish of its blame, and that his real 
character deserved its far gentler verdict. 



132 SKETCH OF THE 



SECTION V. 



We are here to introduce a personage hitherto unnamed, 
and till now obscure, but who was at no distant period to 
make the greatest figure at Rome, and in the accomplish' 
ment of whose destiny, the republican liberties of his 
country, were speedily and finally to be lost in despotic 
power. 

Octavianus, afterwards surnamed* Augustus, the son of 
Octavius, and Attia the niece of Caesar, had been declared 
by the dictator the heir to his name and estates ; and was 
at the time of his uncle's assassination at college in Mace- 
donia, whence it was designed that he should accompany 
his renowned relative' into Parthia. On intelligence of 
Caesar's fate, he returned instantly to Italy, and prepared at 
once boldly to assert his claims, and push his fortunes. On 
his arrival he found the power of Antony almost absolute, 
and the consul himself unwilling to surrender the money 
and effects he had seized. Great as were the difficulties, 
the young man in spite of the caution of his friends, who 



* "The obscure name of Octavianus be derived from a mean family in the little 
town of Aricia. It was stained with the blood of the proscription, and he was 
desirous, had it been possible, to erase all memory of his former life. The illus- 
trious surname he had assumed as the adopted son of the Dictator, but he had too 
much good sense to hope to be confounded, or to wish to be compared with that ex- 
traordinary man. It was proposed in the senate to dignify their minister with a 
new appellation, and after a very serious discussion, that of Augustus was chosen, 
among several others, as being most expressive of the character of peace and 
sanctity which he uniformly affected*" — Gibbon. Munatius Plancus proposed the 
name of Augustus. The name of Romulus was suggested, and was acceptable to 
Octavius, but was abandoned, lest he should be thought to affect a kingdom. Per- 
sons adopted into a family, as was the case with Octavius, sometimes joined to 
their new names that of their own family, giving it the form of a surname; thus 
C. Octavius took the name of Caius, Julius Caesar Octavianus. The splendid his- 
torian we have quoted would seem to have overlooked this fact. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 133 

were alarmed at a collision with the consul, and regardless 
of his mother's entreaties, proceeded with spirit to subdue 
them. "His conversation was elegant and insinuating, his 
face comely and graceful, and his affection to the late dicta- 
tor so sincere, that all were charmed either with his piety 
or address." Assuming the name of Caesar, he made a 
speech to the people, and rendered himself popular by a 
representation of the shows and plays, which his uncle had 
designed in honor of his victories : a suit was brought 
against Antony for the recovery of the effects ; many of 
the soldiers, won by his name and money, were induced to 
support him, and finally distributing to the people the sums 
left them in the will, he was enabled to take the lead of his 
enemy. 

Octavianus had been presented to Cicero immediately 
on his return from Macedonia, and seems to have thought 
his friendship of the utmost importance to his hopes. Pro- 
fessing the highest veneration for his character, he solicited 
at once his assistance, and avowed a determination to be 
governed exclusively by his wiH. It is clear from the letters 
to Atticus, that Cicero was much embarrassed as to the 
course he should pursue, and that he was any thing but 
assured that a straight conduct might be looked for from 
the young Caesar Indeed he had the worst opinion of him, 
and though' it impossible that, surrounded as he was, he 
could r*ake a good citizen. ''Octavius," he writes, "is 
still n'lth us, and treats me with the greatest respect and 
friendship; his domestics give him the name of Caesar. 
Philip* does not; nor for that reason do I. It is not pos- 
sible for him in my opinion to make a good citizen ; there 
are so many about him who threaten the death of our 
friends ; they declare that what they have done can never be 
forgiven. What will be the case think you when the boy 
comes to Rome, where our deliverers cannot shew their 
heads ? who yet must ever be famous, nay happy too, in 
the consciousness of their act. But as for us, unless I am 

* Philip was married to Attia, Caesar 'a mother. 

12 



134 SKETCH OF THE 

deceived, we shall be undone; I long therefore to go abroad 
where I may hear no more of these Pelopidas," &c. # 

These doubts were the more strengthened by the course 
of Octavius on reaching Rome, in which Cicero thought 
that he manifested a strong desire not merely to keep alive 
the memory of his uncle, but a disposition to revenge his 
death. He nevertheless, had determined to cherish him, 
for the reason the following letter discloses, though he 
professed to have no wish for such a saviour : "Octavianus 
I perceive has parts and spirit, and seems to be affected as 
we could wish towards our friends ; but how far we may 
trust his age, name, succession, education, is a matter of 
great deliberation ; his father-in-law thinks that we ought 
not at all to confide in him; he must be cherished how- 
ever, if for nothing else, yet to keep him at a distance from 
Antony. He seems to be much influenced by Marcellus, 
but to have no confidence in Pansa and Hirtius : his natu- 
ral disposition is good, if it does but hold."! 

It would however appear, from subsequent letters, that 
his mind was still greatly fluctuating, and that his chief 
fears were by no means silenced. " I had two letters from 
Octavianus; he presses me to com? immediately to Rome, 
is resolved, he says, to do nothing with-it the senate, with- 
out my advice; in a word, he urges: I hana back. I can- 
not trust his age, do not know his real intcniln nS j w ill da 
nothing without Pansa; am afraid that Antony trill prove 
too strono- for him ; unwilling too to stir from the sea; and 
yet dread lest any glorious measure should be executed in my 
absence. Varro does not like the conduct of the boy, but 
I do. He has firm troops, and may join with Decimus Bru- 
tus. What he does, he does openly ; musters his soldiers 
at Capua, pays them: we shall have a war I see instantly."* 
Again : " I have letters every day from Octavianus, to take 
upon me the direction of affairs ; to come to him at Capua ; 
to save the state a second time; he resolves to come directly 
to Rome. 

" Urged to the fight His shameful to refuse, 

Whilst fear yet prompts the safer part to choose." 

*Ad. Att, viv. xii. flbid. xv. xii. Jlbid. svi. ifc 



LIFE OF CICERO. 135 

:i Meanwhile his solicitations have been and still are urgent: 
he will come to Rome with great force ; yet he is but a boy; 
he thinks the senate may be called immediately; but who 
will corne? or if they do, who in this uncertainty of affairs 
will declare against Antony ? he will be a good guard to us 
on the first of January, or we may come perhaps to blows 
before. The great towns favor the boy strangely; they 
flock to him from all parts, and exhort him to proceed. 
Could you have ever thought it? "* Again : " I have really 
nothing to write to you, for when I w T as at Puteoli I daily 
heard some news from Octavianus, and many false reports 
concerning Antony. In answer to your letters, I entirely 
agree with you that should Octavianus come into power, 
the acts of Cassar will receive a firmer sanction than they 
did in the temple of Tellus, and this will turn out to the 
disadvantage of Brutus. But should Octavius be worsted 
you will find Antony an intolerable tyrant ; thus one does 
not know what to wish for." 

The mind of Cicero, hesitating up to this moment, was 
soon determined by an act of Antony, and by a sacrifice of 
feeling on the part of Cassar, which as a politician, could 
not have cost him the slightest effort. Antony, alarmed at 
the power of his crafty rival, and learning that some of the 
legions in Italy, upon which he relied, had not only aban- 
doned his interests, but declared for Cassar, left Rome pre- 
cipitately, and put himself at the head of the troops he had 
secured, with a view to the forcible possession of Cisalpine 
Gaul; and immediately upon his withdrawal Cicero came 
to the city ; still resolved to withhold all aid from Octavius, 
unless assured of his friendship to Brutus, and declaring 
that he would do nothing for him until the first of January, 
before which there would be an opportunity to try his dispo- 
sition in the case of Casca, who had been named by Caesar 
to the tribunate ; for if Octavius did not oppose or disturb 
his admission, that would be a proof of his good intentions. 
Casca not being disturbed, Cicero was now the ally, and 
effectively so, of Cassar. 

* Ad, Atticuqi. xvi. .si. 



136 SKETCH OF THE 

Meanwhile Decimus Brutus, seizing upon Cisalpine Gaul, 
had forbidden Antony to enter it, and the war was now raging 
in the heart of Italy, which was to decide the fate of the 
empire. It was at this juncture, that Cicero, in the senate, 
prevailed in advancing the power and dignity of Caesar 
against his old enemy. We cannot doubt that he was most 
artfully managed by his boy ally, and it does seem extraor- 
dinary, that the slight sacrifice to which we have referred, 
and upon which he professed to look as an indubitable 
criterion, should have been allowed the least weight in his 
decision. It was, however, we think, the dictate of wis- 
dom, in the absence of all proof of bad design on the part 
of Caesar, to use the power, which by his industry, bribes 
and skill, he had secured, in resistance to a man of whose 
nefarious purposes no doubt could exist, and who was in 
fact, already in arms, avowedly to sustain his party, but in 
reality, warring against the commonwealth. Indeed Caesar 
had rendered himself so important as to make his employ- 
ment not so much a matter of opinion as of necessity. 
His power it has been seen was such as to have impelled An- 
tony to try his fortune in the field, and it cannot be sup- 
posed that he would willingly have relinquished his com- 
mand, or have forgone at once the golden hopes he had 
cherished from the moment that he felt his consequence. 

The senate did not at this moment see fit to proceed 
against Antony as a public enemy; and there was found a 
sufficient number in that body, successfully to withstand the 
eloquence of Cicero, who condemned all delay. After a 
warm debate it was resolved to try first, if by an embassy 
an accommodation might not be realized. In the mean- 
time the following honors were,at Cicero's suggestion, de- 
creed. 

" Whereas Decimus Brutus^ consul elect, now holds the 
province of Gaul in the power of the senate and people of 
Rome, and by the cheerful assistance of the towns and 
colonies of his province, has drawn together a great army 
in a short time, and has done this rightfully and regularly, 
and for the service of the state, it is the sense, therefore, 
of the senate and people, that the republic has been re- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 137 

sieved in a most difficult conjuncture, by the pains, counsels 
and virtue of Decimus Brutus, emperor, and consul elect, 
and by the incredible zeal and concurrence of the province 
of Gaul." Then, after decreeing honors also to Lepidus, 
he proposes lastly in favor of Caesar, that they should grant 
him a proper commission and command over his "troops, 
without which he could be of no use to them ; that he 
should have the rank and all the rights of a pro-praetor ; 
that he should be henceforward a senator, and vote in the 
rank and place of a praetor ; and that in soliciting any 
future magistracy, the same regard be had to him, as would 
have been shown by law, had he been quaestor the year 
before. "* 

The co-operation of Octavius with the state at this junc- 
ture, was no doubt important ; but it does not seem to have 
been necessary to secure it, that the senate should have 
been thus lavish of its honors to a child. Indeed the boy 
at the mere suggestion of his new ally, without its sanction, 
was already in arms and on his way to the conflict. 

It is plain from the philippic accompanying these decrees, 
part of which we insert, that if Cicero were sound in his 
view of the constitution of the human mind, which may 
well admit of question, he was sadly, or rather as we fear, 
wilfully wrong in his estimate of the character and views 
of Caesar, with whose inward sentiments, in the face of his 
so recent positive assurance to the contrary, he now pro- 
fessed to be familiar. "As to those," he said, "who think 
these honors too great for so young a man, their apprehen- 
sions are the effect of envy rather than fear; since the na- 
ture of things was such, that he who had once got a taste 
of true glory, and found himself universally dear to the 
senate and people, could never think any other acquisition 
equal to it. He wished that Julius Caesar had taken the 
same course when young, of endearing himself to the 
senate and honest men, but in neglecting it he spent the 
force of his great genius in acquiring a vain popularity, 

Phil. 5. xiv. xv. xvii* 

12* 



138 SKETCH OF THE 

and having no regard to the senate and better sort, opened 
himself a way to power, which the virtue of a free people 
could not bear; that there was nothing of this sort to be 
feared from his son ; nor after the proof of such admirable 
prudence in a boy, any ground to imagine that his riper 
years would be less prudent; for what greater folly could 
there be than to prefer an useless power, an invidious 
greatness, always slippery and tottering, to true, weighty, 
solid glory? If they suspected him to be an enemy of 
some of the best and most valued citizens, they might lay 
aside their fears ; that he had given up all his resentments 
to the republic, made her the moderatrix of all his acts ; 
that he knew the most inward sentiments of the youth, would 
pawn his credit for him to the senate and people, would pro- 
mise, engage, undertake, that he would always be the same 
that he now was ; such as they would wish and desire to see 
him." * ' 

Upon the whole, we think it inferrible from the character 
of Cicero, and from the extracts we have presented, that he 
was prompted to his alliance with Caesar, by his vanity, art- 
fully assailed, by "hatred and fear of Antony, and avidity for 
honor," and not by an honest conviction, that in heighten- 
ing the dignity, and strengthening the power of his ally, he 
was promoting the true interests of Rome : for it is to the 
last degree improbable, that in the short space of a few 
weeks, his mind, with no apparent cause, could have un- 
dergone so thorough a change, as not merely to have repel- 
led its late strong distrust, but have admitted in its stead, an 
admiration the most exorbitant, and withal so assured, as to 
induce an unqualified pledge of the perpetual fidelity of 
Caesar. 

If we may judge from the course of Cicero in the public 
councils, as disclosed in his celebrated philippics, his hopes 
of the republic were now completely revived. They were 
based, it would seem, upon a confident reliance on the pro- 
bity of the consuls, Pansa and Hirtius, who, though owing 
their elevation to Caesar, were yet, so far apparently unin- 

* Pbil. 5. xviii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 139 

fluenced by his memory, as neither to desire the ruin of 
Brutus, nor generally to thwart the proposed measures 
against Antony.* Again, if his admiration of Octavius, so 
hastily conceived, were sincere, in his power and disposi- 
tion honestly to use it, he might well see a further pledge 
of success; whilst the intelligence from the absent patriots 
gave flattering promise of succor from abroad. Besides, 
though it is certain, that in the senate there was no mean 
party so far friendly to Antony, as to discountenance its se- 
verer edicts against him, that body appears at the time to 
have been not unmindful of its dignity and rights, and to 
have felt the weight of his admonition to preserve them ; 
and lastly, he indulged a feeling, which he professed to 
think well founded, and now avowed, "that the season of 
liberty was come, much later indeed than became the Ro- 
man people, but then so ripe that it could not be deferred a 
moment. What we have hitherto suffered was owing to a 
kind of fatality, which we have borne as well as we could, 
but if any such case should happen again, it must be owing 
to ourselves. It is not possible for the people of Rome to 
be slaves, whom the gods have destined to the command of 
all nations: the affair is now reduced to the last extremity; 
the struggle is for liberty ; it is your part either to conquer, 
which will surely be the fruit of your piety and concord, or 
to suffer any thing rather than to live slaves : other nations 
may endure slavery, but the proper end and business of the 
Roman people is, liberty.!" 

How far his faith in the patriotism of the consuls would 
have been realized, it is not possible to say ; for at the mo- 
ment when they might have influenced the destinies of 
Rome, it was the fortune of both to be slain in battle. 
The honor and virtue of the senate, were soon prostituted 
to successful power, and that he was utterly wrong in his 
public estimate of Caesar and the Roman people, his own 
mournful fate and the imperial domination attest. 

•TJt oratio consilium animummeum erexit, spemque attulit non modo salutia •on- 
servanda, verum etiara dignitatis pristinae recuperanda?.— Phil. 6. 1, 
tPhiU6. iv. vi. 



140 SKETCH OF THE 

The embassy to which we have referred, and which of 
itself betrayed the influence of the public enemy in the se- 
nate, had issued as Cicero predicted. Antony would not 
suffer the ambassadors to perform any thing required of 
them, nor allow them even to speak with Brutus, whom he 
had some time before besieged in Modena; but continued 
to batter the town with great fury in their presence.* He 
vouchsafed, however, to propose some conditions himself, 
in which it will be seen, that humility had no very promi- 
nent share, which, though in positive disobedience to their 
instructions, the ambassadors received. These contem- 
plated ample rewards to his army, as if it had been render- 
ing signal services to Rome, instead of menacing her free- 
dom; and provided that all his decrees upon Caesar's papers 
should stand firm, and that all account of the treasure stolen 
from the temple of Ops should be dispensed with ; upon 
which terms he condescended to surrender Cisalpine Gaul: 
though not without the lordly proviso, that he might have 
the greater Gaul in exchange, for five years, with an army 
of six legions, to be completed out of the very troops he 
was besieging. These stipulations were with no hesitation 
rejected. 

It had been before determined, not to await the result of 
the embassy in the preparation for war. The consuls 
agreed to act at once. Pansa was to remain at home, and 
perfect the new levies, while Hirtius should proceed into 
Gaul, and in conjunction with Caesar prosecute the war: 
Caesar having, as we have already stated, though without 
the sanction of the senate, taken the field. A struggle for 
Modena not long afterwards ensued, between the armies 
of Antony and the consuls; Caesar and his troops fighting 
with the latter. 

The Philippics inform us of the state of Brutus, and his 
hopes at this period in Macedonia. "He had advised the 
consuls of his success against Antony's brother Caius, in 
securing Macedonia, Illyricum and Greece, with all the 

* Middleton. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 141 

several armies in those countries, to the interests of the re- 
public ; that Caius Antony was retired to Apollonia, with 
seven cohorts, where a good account would soon be given 
of him; that a legion under L. Piso, had surrendered itself 
to young Cicero, the commander of his horse ; that Dola- 
bella's horse, which was marching in two separate bodies 
towards Syria, the one in Thessaly, the other in Macedo- 
nia, had deserted their leaders, and joined themselves to 
him. That Vatinius had opened the gates of Dyrrachium 
to him, and given up the town with the troops, into his 
hands; that in all those transactions, Quintus Hortensius, 
the proconsul of Macedonia, had been particularly service- 
able in disposing the provinces and their armies, to declare 
for the cause of liberty."* 

Upon this intelligence, publie honors were decreed on 
motion of Cicero to Brutus; and soon after he made an 
unsuccessful attempt to confide the conduct of the war 
against Dolabella to Cassius ; that general, however, acted 
without the authority of the senate, and was soon after in 
a prosperous condition to further the great cause of the 
republic. 

It is undeniable that at this time the zeal and eloquence 
of Cicero, proportioned to his hopes, were, in all things 
ardently exerted for his country. Nevertheless, though we 
would, in nothings detract from the well earned merits of 
this illustrious Roman, which justice and good sense alike 
prompt us to approve, and though we readily believe that it 
was not a little owing to his counsels, that the republic 
was making a last great effort for itself, we cannot but think, 
that his active ardor, so long suspended, was, in a very 
great degree, stimulated by the double feeling of hatred and 
fear of Antony ; nor can we reprehend this impulse, as the 
breach between them was now irreconcilable, and the fate 
of one of them was not much longer to be averted. Be- 
sides, it was Cicero's own declared opinion, that the war 
must necessarily decide upon his life.t 

*rjril x. 4, 5. 6. t Ad. Brut, 2. 7, 



142 SKETCH OF THE 

We have his own assurance, that at this juncture, his 
philosophy had weakened all his disquietudes, so far as his 
own personal interest and safety were involved, and that he 
was exclusively anxious for his country. We may well sus- 
pect, nevertheless, that this great man was deceived, in sup- 
posing that his hopes of further glory had subsided; how 
potent soever may have been his philosophy in quieting his 
fears. Writing to Plancus, he observes: "The ferocity of 
Antony (for to call it pride, would be imputing a vice to 
him which is nothing uncommon,) the ferocity of his tem- 
per is so excessive, that he cannot bear a word, or even a 
look which is animated with the least spirit of liberty. It 
is this, which fills my heart with a thousand disquietudes, 
but disquietudes in which my own preservation is by no 
means concerned. No, my friend, I have nothing farther 
to wish with respect to myself, whether I consider the years 
to which I have arrived, [63,] the actions which I have per- 
formed, or the glory, if that may be mentioned as of any 
value in the account, with which they have been crowned : 
all my anxiety is for my country alone." 

Although the voice of Cicero had been, from the outset, 
for war, it appears that about this time, acted upon by a 
feeling of regard for Decimus Brutus, who was in the ut- 
most danger of his life should Antony succeed in the siege 
of Modena, a feeling very extensively indulged, he assented 
to a renewal of the negotiation, which, it has been seen, 
was closed by the inadmissible demands of the enemy. 
Dolabella had, by stratagem, seized Trebonius, one of the 
assassins of Caesar ; and had in revenge put him to a hor- 
rid death ; and Antony was known, not only to have ap- 
proved, but extolled that act. It was naturally feared, that 
should Brutus be subjected to his power, the fate of this 
general would be no less frightful, as he also was concerned 
in Caesar's death. But Cicero appears to have abandoned 
the thought of peace, almost as soon as it was conceived. 
He had been chosen, among others, to conduct the nego- 
tiation, which it was proposed to carry on at the seat of 
war. How far a fear of so close a contact with Antony, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 143 

may have influenced the entire change in his opinion, it is 
not possible to say ; though it is manifest from his speech 
that it was not overlooked in his decision. After an elo- 
quent argument, however, dissuading all treaty, he con- 
sented to obey the public voice, and partake, though reluc- 
tantly, in the embassy. 

It is difficult to believe, that the senate, after a know- 
ledge of the views and apprehensions his argument reveals, 
would have further urged his participation, even had they 
not determined, as they did, to drop the negotiation. De- 
nouncing the treaty with his accustomed power, he pro- 
ceeds to press the reasons personal to himself, "begging 
them at least to spare him the pain of seeing Antony, and 
insisting, that though he might be able to command himself, 
and dissemble his uneasiness at the sight of him and his 
crew, yet some regard should be had to his life : not that he 
set any value upon it himself, but that it ought not to be 
thought despicable by the senate and people of Rome, since 
if he did not deceive himself, it was he, who by his watch- 
ings, cares and votes, had so managed matters, that all the 
attempts of their enemies were hitherto fruitless. That if 
his life had been so often attempted at home, what might 
he not apprehend from so long a journey : that he did not 
refuse the charge, but the people for him ; for no man was 
less timorous, though none more cautious than he; that a 
great statesman ought to leave behind him a glory in dying, 
not the reproach of error and folly, and that if he should 
happen to escape all the snares of the road, Antony's rage 
was so furious, that he would never suffer him to return 
alive. Let my life, therefore, be reserved for the service of 
my country, as long as either dignity or nature will allow : 
let my death fall by the necessary course of fate, or if I 
must meet it sooner, let me meet it with glory. Since the 
republic, then, to speak the most moderately, has no oc- 
casion for this embassy; yet, if I can undertake it with 
safety, I will, and in the whole affair will govern myself en- 
tirel y, fathers, not by a regard to my own dangers, but to 
the st^vice of the state; and after the most mature delibe- 



144 SKETCH OP THE 

ration, will resolve to do that which I shall judge to be 
most useful to the public interests."* 

A just estimate of men has, at all times, been thought 
one of the most essential qualities of a statesman. Indeed 
it may be said to be inseparable from a really great distinc- 
tion in the government of states. This quality shone with 
dazzling lustre in the counsels of Cicero, when counteract- 
ing the designs of Catiline; but it would seem, that in that 
part of his career of which we now treat, the faculty, if not 
lost, was in a very remarkable degree obscured; and that 
among the great actors of the day, his suspicions centred 
in Antony alone. The reader will remember, supposing 
him to have been sincere, with what assurance his reputa- 
tion had been pawned for the probity and lasting fidelity of 
Octavius, and he will now discover how utterly he was de- 
ceived in the character and pretensions of Lepidus. It is 
true, that in this latter case, the grounds of his credulity 
are among the strongest.! 

There can be no doubt that Lepidus, weak and vain as 
he was, was not without ambition ; it was known that his 
thoughts were turned to a high rank in affairs, and we have 
already stated, that but for the prevailing art of Antony, he 
would, in all human probability, have made himself master 
in Rome. He now wrote to the senate, urging an accom- 
modation, which Cicero again opposed ; alledging, that fire 
and water would sooner unite, than the Antonies be recon- 
ciled to the republic ; but he was not the less willing to de- 
cree thanks to Lepidus, for his desire of concord, or in the 
least doubtful of his loyalty. After inveighing against a 
peace, he adds, "that there was no danger to be appre- 
hended from Lepidus, since he could not enjoy the splen- 
dor of his own fortunes, but with the safety of all honest 
men ; that nature first makes men honest, but fortune con- 
firms them ; for though it was the common interest of all to 
promote the safety of the republic, yet it was more par- 



*Phil. 12. x. xi. 
tHe complains, himself, of being perpetually duped about this time. A'- Atti * 
cum. xv. xxii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 145 

ticularly of those who were happy in their fortunes. That 
nobody was more so than Lepidus ; and nobody, therefore, 
better disposed; of which the people saw a remarkable in- 
stance in the concern which he expressed when Antony 
offered a diadem to Caesar, and chose to be his slave, rather 
than his colleague.' 5 * Again, in a letter to Decimus Bru- 
tus : "Nor have we," he writes, "any thing surely to appre- 
hend from Lepidus. For who can imagine him so utterly 
void of all rational conduct, as to have professed himself an 
advocate for peace, when we were engaged in a most ne- 
cessary war, and yet to take up arms against the republic, 
the moment that most desirable peace is restored: you are 
far too sagacious I doubt not to entertain such a thought." 
This letter was written after the successes of the army, to 
which we shall presently refer. 

Thus misled in the character and views of Lepidus, he 
next addresses him in a letter, which, from its import, Dr. 
Middleton thinks, was designed to show him that they were 
perfectly easy and secure at Rome, whatever measures he 
might think fit to take. "While out of the great respect I 
bear to you," says Cicero, "I am making it my particular 
care to advance your dignity as much as possible, it was a 
concern to me to see that you did not think it worth while 
to return thanks to the senate, for the extraordinary honors 
they have conferred upon you. I rejoice, however, that you 
are so desirous of making peace among citizens. If you 
can separate that peace from slavery, you will consult both 
the good of the republic and your own dignity ; but if the 
effect of it be to restore a desperate man to an arbitrary 
dominion, I would have you to know that all men of sense 
have taken a resolution to prefer death to servitude. You 
will act, therefore, more wisely in my judgment if you 
meddle no further with that affair of peace, which is not 
agreeable, either to the senate or the people, or to any 
honest man ; you will hear enough of this from others, or 
be informed of it by letters, and will be governed by your 

♦ Phil. 13,viU. 

13 



146 SKETCH OF THE 

own prudence, as to what is best for you to do. 5 '* We 
need scarcely remark that the fallacy of Cicero's estimate, 
together with his error in deeming lightly of Lepidus's power, 
was shown in the controlling importance of that general in 
the ruin of the republic. 

The hopes inspired by the last despatch of Brutus from 
Macedonia, were now in a great degree realized. Caius 
Antony, who it will be recollected had been sent to act 
against him in that country, was now subdued and a pri- 
soner. He had yielded in a second engagement to a force 
commanded by the young Cicero, who greatly signalized 
his valor and conduct in the progress of the war, and the 
armies of the republic were now in complete possession of 
the province."! 

There is one incident in this war, from which we may in- 
fer, that to the sterner virtues of Brutus, he did in truth, in 
a great degree, join the mild qualities ascribed to him, and 
indeed we find him, to the prejudice of his cause, and in 
opposition to the counsel of his friend, whose judgment 
he valued and desired, more than once giving way to the 
clemency of his nature. It is said that he "treated his 
prisoner with the greatest respect ; nor did he divest him of 
the ensigns of his dignity, though he received letters from 
several persons at Rome, and particularly from Cicero, ad- 
vising him to put him to death. "J And it appears that 
even when he found Antony practising with his officers, 
and corrupting his soldiers, his punishment was limited to 
close confinement. 

We have no hesitation in thinking with Cicero, that this 
clemency was ill advised; and a harsher course as a retal- 
iatory step, would have undoubtedly been sanctioned by 
the shocking fate of Trebonius. Brutus writes on this oc- 
casion: "Antony is still with me; but in truth I am moved 
with the prayers of the man. I am wholly at a loss what 
to do with him ; am afraid lest the madness of some should 
make him the occasion of mischief to me. If I knew your 

* Ep. Fam. x. xxvii. t Middl«ton. t Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 147 

mind I should be at ease, for I should think that the [best 
which you advised."* Ciceio replied: "It is now your 
part, Brutus, to consider the whole state and nature of the 
war: you are delighted I see with lenity, and think it the 
best way of proceeding; this indeed is generally right; but 
the proper place of clemency is in cases and seasons very 
different from the present; for what are we now doing Bru- 
tus ? We see a needy and desperate crew threatening the 
very temples of the gods, and that the war must necessa- 
rily decide whether we are to live or not. Who are those 
whom we are sparing? or what is it that we mean? Are 
we consulting the safety of those who if they prevail, are 
sure not to leave the least remains of us ? for what differ- 
ence is there between Dolabella and any of the three Anto- 
nies ? If we spare any of those, we have been too severe 
to Dolabella. It was owing chiefly to my advice and au- 
thority, that the senate and people are in this way of think- 
ing, though the thing itself indeed obliged them to it ; if 
you do not approve this policy, I shall defend your opinion 
but cannot depart from my own ; the world expects from 
you nothing either remiss or cruel ; it is easy to moderate 
the matter by severity to the leaders, lenity to the soldiers."! 
Again when informed of the sedition in the army, Cicero 
writes : "As to the sedition in the fourth legion fomented 
by Caius Antony, you will take what I say in good part. 
I am better pleased with the severity of the soldiers than 
yours. I am extremely glad that you have had a trial of 
the affections of your legions and the horse. As to what 
you write that I am pursuing Antony much at my ease, and 
praise me for it, I suppose you really think so. I do not 
by any means approve your distinction when you say, that 
our animosity ought to be excited rather in preventing civil 
wars than in revenging ourselves on the conquered. I 
differ widely with you Brutus ; not that I yield to you in 
clemency: but a salutary severity is always preferable to a 
specious show of mercy. If we are so fond of pardoning, 

* Ad. Brut. 2. S, f Ad. Brut. 2. 7, 



148 SKETCH OF THE 

there will be no end of civil wars; but you are to look to 
that, for I can say of myself with Plautus's old man in the 
Trinummus — 'life is almost over with me.' It is you who 
are most interested in it; you will be undone Brutus be- 
lieve me if you do not take care ; you will not always have 
the people, nor the senate, nor a leader of the senate, the 
same as now. Take this as from the Pythian oracle; 
nothing can be more true." * 

The following letter of Cassius will inform us of the pos- 
ture of affairs with him, in the prosecution of the war 
against Dolabella. It is given entire, principally with a 
view to a complete understanding of events, and may like- 
wise serve to pourtray the republican virtues and patriotism 
of its writer, as also to apprise us of the very eminent dig- 
nity and authority of Cicero at this time in Rome. 

Cassius, pro-consul, to his friend M. T. Cicero. 
" If you are in health it is a pleasure to me. I am also 
very well. I have read your letter in which I perceive 
your wonderful affection for me ; for you not only wish me 
well, which indeed you have always done both for my own 
sake and the republic, but entertain an uncommon concern 
and solicitude for me. Wherefore as I imagined in the 
first place, that you would think it impossible for me to sit 
still and see the republic oppressed, and in the second that 
whenever you supposed me in action, you would be solici- 
tous about my safety and success ; so as soon as I was 
master of the legions which Alienust brought from Egypt, 
I immediately wrote to you and sent several expresses to 
Rome. I wrote letters also to the senate, but forbade the 
delivery of them, till they had been first shown to you. If 
these letters have not reached you, I make no doubt but 
that Dolabella, who by the wicked murder of Trebonius, is 
master of Asia, has seized my messengers and intercepted 

* Ad. Brut. 2. 
t Alienus was lieutenant to Dolabella, by whom he was sent into Egypt, in order 
to conduct these legions into Syria; he accordingly executed his commission, but 
instead of delivering the troops to Dolabella, he went over with them to Cassius. 
Quartier, Melmoth* 3. 2.06. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 149 

them. I have all the armies which were in Syria, under 
my command ; and having been forced to sit still awhile 
till I had discharged my promise to them, am now ready to 
take the field. I beg of you to take my honor and interests 
under your especial care ; for you know that I have never 
refused any danger or labor for the service of my country ; 
that by your advice and authority I took arms against these 
infamous robbers ; that I have not only raised armies for 
the defence of the republic and our liberties, but have 
snatched them from the hands of the most cruel tyrants, 
which if Dolabella had seized before me, he would have 
given fresh spirits to Antony's cause, not only by the ap- 
proach, but by the very fame and expectation of his troops. 
For which reason take my soldiers under your protection, 
if you think them to have deserved well of the state; and 
let none of them have reason to repent that they have pre' 
ferred the cause of the republic to the hopes of plunder and 
rapine. Take care also as far as it is in your power, that 
due honors be paid to the emperors Murcus and Crispus; 
for Bassus was miserably unwilling lo deliver up his legions; 
and if his soldiers had not sent a deputation to me, in spite 
of him, would have held out Apamea against me till it could 
be taken by force. I beg this of you not only for the sake 
of the republic, which of all things was ever the dearest to 
you. but of our friendship also, which I am confident has a 
great weight with you. Take my word for it, the army which 
I have is the senate's, and every honest man's, and above all 
yours; for by hearing perpetually of your good disposition, 
they have conceived a wonderful affection for you ; and 
when they come to understand that you make their interests 
your special care, they will think themselves indebted to 
you for every thing. Since I wrote this I have learned that 
Dolabella is come into Cilicia with all his forces ; I will 
follow him thither, and shall take care that you shall soon 
be informed of what I have done. I wish only that my 
success may be answerable to my good intentions. Con- 
tinue the care of your health and your love to me." # Not 

*Ep. Fam. 12, 12, vid. ib. 11. 

13* 



150 SKETCH OF THE 

long after this letter was written, Dolabella was shut up 
closely in Laodicea, where, hopeless of escape and dread- 
ing revenge for his atrocious murder of Trebonius, he had 
recourse to suicide, the Roman medicine in misfortune, 

Meanwhile the consul Pansa had perfected the new levies, 
the purpose* it will be remembered, for which he remained 
in Rome, and had now reached the scene of war. The 
two armies engaged near Modena, and Csssar was present 
at the battle.* Its issue was disastrous to Antony ; but 
both the consuls were slain. The defeated general en- 
countered in his flight the utmost distress, and indeed, ex- 
tremities, than which nature knows none more afflicting. 
They were sustained, however, with heroic constancy; and 
Antony, says Plutarch, in adversity was almost a man of 
virtue.t 

The siege of Modena, a great event in this fatal war, 
consumed near four months. Antony had so closely in- 
vested it, that the consuls found it almost impossible to 
communicate with Decimus Brutus its defender; and it is 
said that all manner of stratagem was resorted to, to elude 
his vigilance ; " that Hirtius provided men skilled in diving, 
with letters written on lead, to pass into the town, under 
tjie river which runs through it, till Antony obstructed these 
passages by nets and traps under water ; which gave occa- 

* Plutarch. 

\Cqsar. " Antony, 
Leave thy lascivious wassals. When thou once 
Was heaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 
Birtius and Pansa consuls, at thy heel 
Did' famine follow ; whom thou fought'st against 
Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink 
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle 
Which beasts would eough at ; thy palate then 
Did deign the roughest berry on the rudest hedge ;, 
Yea like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, 
The barks of trees thou browsed 'st ; on the Alps 
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh 
Which some did die to look on. And all this 
(It wounds thine honor that I speak it now,) 
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
So much as lankod not." — Antony and Cleopatra, Act 1. t. iv. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 151 

sion to another contrivance, by sending their intelligence 
backwards and forwards by pigeons." # 

The intelligence of the signal success of the army near 
Modena, was received by the senate and people with ex- 
travagant joy, and all seemed to think that the republic 
was restored. The high honors bestowed upon Cicero, as 
we learn from his letters, were to the last degree grateful 
to his heart ; and must, we may imagine, have vividly re- 
minded him of his past triumphs in the far happier fortunes 
of his country, when for a real deliverance, he had been 
saluted her second founder and saviour. There can be no 
question of his active and constant influence in arming 
the state against its formidable enemy, and in every way 
stimulating and directing its energies for its own preserva- 
tion. That the wisdom of his measures had not in all 
things been equal to his zeal, time too soon revealed ; but 
the tribute to his patriotism and controlling eloquence, as 
in his consulship, in Rome at least was universal ; though 
soon followed, as will be seen, by the displeasure and haughty 
reproach of Brutus. In the common order of events, the 
defeat of Antony was well calculated to strengthen if not 
confirm his late revived hopes ; and but for the simultaneous 
death of the consuls, a casualty extraordinary as fatal, 
might have restored to the mistress of the world her repub- 
lican grandeur and liberties. Its effect, however, was di- 
rectly opposite ; for the routed Antony flying to Lepidus, 

* Middleton. Frontin. do. Stratagem. Flm.JVat. Bis. Dion. "Though you carry 
these birds hoodwinked sixty or a hundred, miles, they will find their way in a very 
little time to the place where they are bred. They are trained to this service in 
Persia and Turkey, and carried first when young, short flights of half a mile, and 
afterwards more, until at length they will return from the farthest parts of the 
kingdom. Every Bashaw has a number of these pigeons, which upon anj' emer- 
gent occasion, as an insurrection or the like, he despatches with letters braced un* 
der the wings, to the seraglio, and this proves a more speedy method, as wel> as 
more safe than any other. Litbgow assures us that one of these birds will carry 
a letter from Babylon to Aleppo, which is thirty days' journey, in forty-eight hours. 
This is also a very ancient practice. Hirtius and Brutus at the seige of Modena, 
held a correspondence by means of pigeons; and Ovid tells us that Taurosthenes 
by a pigeon stained with purple, gave notice to his father of his victory at tho 
Olympic games, sending it to him at iEgina." At the time we write, the merchants 
ou the stock exchanges of London and Paris have commenced a correspondence; 
through pigeons. 



152 SKETCH OF THE 

who then commanded in the further Gaul, was soon through 
the perfidy of that general and the attachment of his army, 
again a candidate for empire, and returned speedily into 
Italy, with seventeen entire legions of foot, and ten thou- 
sand horse.* 

In a letter to the senate Lepidus implores that body to 
repel all doubts of his fidelity, and ascribes his own course 
exclusively to compulsion ; calling the gods and men to 
witness that he had nothing so much at heart as the public 
safety and liberty. 

Lepidus, Imperator and sovereign Pontiff, 
To the Senate and People of Rome. 

" Heaven and earth will bear me witness conscript fathers, 
that there is nothing I have at all times more sincerely de- 
sired, than the preservation of our common liberties, and I 
should have soon convinced you of this truth if fortune had 
not forced me to renounce the measures I proposed to pur- 
sue. My whole army indeed expressed their usual tender- 
ness to their fellow countrymen by a military opposition to 
my designs ; and to own the truth, they absolutely com- 
pelled me not to refuse my protection to such a multitude 
of Roman citizens. I conjure you then conscript fathers, 
to judge of this affair not by the suggestions of private re- 
sentment, but by the interests of the commonwealth; nor 
let it be imputed as a crime to me and my army, that amidst 
our civil dissensions we yielded to the dictates of compas- 
sion and humanity. Be assured that by acting with an 
equal regard to the safety and honor of all parties you will 
best consult both your own and your country's advantage. 

From my Camp at Pons Argenteus." 

Lepidus had long been suspected of a secret understand- 
ing with Antony : we have seen with what ardor he had 
pressed an accommodation; and there is no doubt that his 
late act was the consummation of a design long since 
formed, to secure to himself an elevated rank in the con- 

* Plutarch. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 153 

duct of affairs; foregoing the opportunity his great power 
presented, of interposing for the safety of his country, and 
preferring a share in a lawless dominion to the solid glory 
of a patriot; a determination, as Middleton suggests, 
the more extraordinary, as in the event of a restoration of 
the republic through his virtue, so eminent a service, 
added to the high dignity of his family and fortunes, could 
not fail to have made him the first and most cherished citi- 
zen of liberated Rome. 

By the death of the consuls, Octavius was now at the 
head of the army, and applied himself to secure it to his 
interests; careless of pursuing Antony, and devising means 
to give effect to the great plans of aggrandizement, which 
we cannot doubt that he had projected at the moment he 
found himself in exclusive command. It is certain that no 
step was taken effectually to embarrass the retreat; and 
nothing is surer than that Caesar showed no disposition to 
obstruct it. The truth is, his zeal in the late campaign., 
had grown more out of a desire to depress his personal 
enemy and rival, than from regard to the state; and when 
he found that Antony had so soon repaired his disasters, 
and was again in an imposing attitude, he appears at once 
to have resolved to abandon the interests of Rome, and 
content himself awhile with a divided empire. 

Octavius is said to have been advised by Pansa on his 
death bed, to join with Antony in opposition to the senate, 
which he told him was only anxious to embroil them with 
each other, and then destroy them. This dying counsel is 
supposed to have had a powerful control in his determina- 
tion, in which he was the more strengthened when Deci- 
mus Brutus was associated with him in the command, and 
when the honors of a triumph were denied to him. Com- 
pletely to try the disposition of the senate, before his de- 
sertion, he demanded the consulship; but in this he met at 
first with its determined opposition. As great as was his 
power, there was not, says Cicero, a magistrate, or so much 
as a single senator, who would move for a decree for the 
purpose. A demand was then made through a deputation 



154 SKETCH OF THE 

of his officers, and their proposition being coldly received, 
"Cornelius, a centurion, throwing back his robe, and show- 
ing them his sword, boldly declared that if they would not 
make him consul, that should. But Octavius himself soon 
put an end to their scruples by marching with his legions 
in a hostile manner to the city, where he was chosen con- 
sul, with his kinsman Quintus Paedius." * 

A letter of Plancus will teach us how far this treacherous 
boy was instrumental in the overthrow of the republic, at a 
moment when his fidelity might have saved it. 

After stating his obligations to the elder Caesar, and his 
strong desire to behold Octavius faithfully discharging his 
duties, Plancus proceeds: "What I am going to say is 
more the dictate of concern than of resentment ; but it must 
be acknowledged that if Antony still lives; if he has been 
joined by Lepidus ; if their armies are by no means con- 
temptible — Caesar is the cause. In a word, all their hopes 
and all their attempts are singly owing to him. Not to look 
further back than his promise to join me; had he fulfilled 
the assurances he gave me for that purpose, the war would 
at this time either have been totally at an end or driven into 
Spain, where the enemy could not have carried it on but at 
great disadvantage, as that province is utterly averse to 
them. J am at a loss to conceive, therefore, with what 
view, or by whose advice, Cassar was diverted from a mea- 
sure so greatly to his interest and honor, in order to turn his 
prospects towards a consulship of a few months' duration, 
much to the terror of the republic, and with pretensions 
too, exceedingly ridiculous." And again: "if Cassar should 
comply with the dictates of his interests and honor, you 
have nothing to fear from this quarter, if we are speedily 
joined by the African legions."! 

It is in our day generally believed, that the interview 
with, and dying counsel of Pansa, did in fact take place. 
If this be true, it affords additional proof of Cicero's lack of 
discernment in estimating the prominent actors in this de- 
cisive drama. Dr. Middleton, however, in speaking of this 

*Snet. in Aug. c, 28. Middleton. t p l an cto Cicero. Ep. Fam. x. xxiv* 



LIFE OF CICERO. 155 

matter thinks, that the story was forged afterwards, to save 
the honor of Octavius, and give a color to that sudden 
change of measures which, from the moment of the victory, 
he was determined to pursue; and builds his opinion upon 
a letter of Decimus Brutus', by which it seems that he and 
Cassar had conferred, the day before Pansa's death, whereas 
Appian, who mentions the dying advice, asserts that Bru- 
tus refused to see Caesar, and had in truth prevented his 
pursuit of Antony. There is, moreover, another letter of 
Brutus extant, in which he tells us that he had warmly 
pressed upon Cassar the duty and necessity there was, if he 
were really desirous to frustrate the enemy, of crossing the 
Apennine. Dr. Middleton thinks further, that the death of 
Pansa was so sudden as scarce to leave room for the inter- 
view in question. But of this enough. 

As we have before said, the general opinion was, that the 
war had ended in the retreat from Modena; and Marcus 
Brutus must, in all probability, have deemed it decisive; for 
we find Cicero commending his wisdom in not withdraw- 
ing his forces from Apollonia and Dyrrachium, where it 
appears to have been his intention to await the issue of the 
battle, until assured of the flight of Antony.* After that 
event he passed far into Greece, with a view to act against 
Dolabella, and could not be persuaded either by the desire 
of the senate, or the imploring letters of Cicero, to come 
into Italy, when undeceived in the high reaching views of 
Cassar, and the perfidy of Lepidus, he conjured him to do 
so. It has been thought, and we think justly, that had Bru- 
tus and Cassius when first desired to return complied, the 
immediate ruin of the republic might have been averted; 
for Decimus Brutus was then alive, and in no inconsidera- 
ble force, whilst also up to that period the treachery of 
Plancus had not shown itself, and might in the view of 
their imposing power have been prevented, or at all events, 
in a great degree stripped of its importance. 

•Tnnm consilium vehementer laudo, quod non prius exercitum, Apollonia Dyrra» 
chioque movisti, quam de Antonii fuga audisti, Bruti eruptione, populi Romani vio» 
torla.— Ad. Brut. 2. 



156 SKETCH OF THE 

It is impossible to assign a motive, with any certainty, to 
the reluctance of Brutus to return; and from his spotless 
character, equally so, to impute a bad one. Lepidus was the 
husband of his sister, and it is not improbable that he was 
slow to believe him capable of the iniquitous designs with 
which he was charged ; and, therefore, did not appreciate the 
urgent need of his own presence in Italy, Besides there is 
strong reason to think that the opinion of its expediency 
was by no means general.* There were many, and in all 
likelihood, this was his own real impression, who doubted 
the enduring fealty of his soldiers in the tainting atmos- 
phere of the veterans and Caesar, with whose principal 
means of power, the debauching of armies, Brutus must not 
be supposed to have been unapprised. 

The reader will probably with us, be struck with the 
deeply anxious tone of the following letters. 

"Fly, I beseech you, and exhort Cassius to do the same, 
for there is no hope of liberty but from your troops. If you 
have any regard for the republic for which you were born, 
you must do it instantly: for the war is renewed by the in- 
constancy of Lepidus, and Cresar's army which was the best, 
is not only of no service, but even obliges us to call for 
yours. As soon as you ever touch Italy, there is not a man 
whom we can call a citizen, who will not be in your camp. 
We have Decimus Brutus indeed, happily united withPlan- 
cus; but you are not ignorant how changeable men's minds 
are, how infected with party, and how uncertain are the 
effects of war; nay, should we conquer, as I hope we shall, 
there will be a want of your advice and authority to settle 
affairs. Help us, therefore, for the gods' sake, and as soon 
as possible ; and assure yourself that you did not do a 
greater service on the ides of March, when you freed us 
from slavery, than you will do by coming quickly." Again, 
after telling Brutus that he had declared to his mother Ser- 
vilia, what he took to be most for his honor, viz: that he 
should bring without loss of time, present help to the de- 

* Midd lelon. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 157 

dining and tottering state, he continues, deploring the diffi- 
culty he apprehended, in redeeming his so confident pledge 
for the honor and fidelity of Octavius. "But the greatest 
grief I feel while I am now writing, is to reflect that when 
the republic had taken my word for a youth, or rather a 
boy, [one would think that the contemptuous phrase might have 
been dropped,'] I shall hardly have it in my power to make 
good what I. promised for him ; for it is a thing of much 
greater moment and delicacy to engage oneself for an- 
other's sentiments and principles, especially in affairs of 
importance, than for money; for money may be paid, and 
the loss itself be tolerable, but how can you pay what is en- 
gaged for to the republic, unless he for whom you stand 
engaged will suffer it to be paid ? Yet I am still in hopes 
to hold him, though many are plucking him away from me ; 
for his disposition seems good, though his age be flexible, 
and many always at hand to corrupt him; who by throwing 
in his way the splendor of false honor, think themselves 
sure of dazzling his good sense and understanding: where- 
fore to all my other labors this new one is added of setting 
all engines at work to hold fast the young man, lest I incur 
the imputation of rashness. Though what rashness is it 
after all? for in reality, I bound him, for whom I was en- 
gaged, more strongly than myself, nor has the republic as 
yet any cause to repent that I was his sponsor.* Since he 
has hitherto been the more firm in acting for us, as well 
from his own temper as from my promises." And then 
stating that the republic found its greatest difficulty in a 
want of money, he reiterates his ardent desire to see Bru- 
tus in Italy.t 

The letter to Cassius is also strong in entreaties to re- 
turn: that commander was master of large treasure exacted 
in the east, and for that reason, independently of his well 
organized and triumphant army, his presence was desirable. 

*It is one of the grounds of Cicero's desire for Brutus's return, that Caesar was 
to he feared, and that his army was against them. 

t Ad. Brut. x. xiv. xviii. 

14 



158 SKETCH OF THE 



Cicero to Cassius. 



"We wish to see you in Italy as soon as possible, and 
shall imagine that we have recovered the republic when we 
have you with us. We had conquered nobly if Lepidus 
had not received the routed, disarmed, fugitive Antony, 
Wherefore Antony himself never was so odious to the city 
as Lepidus is now: for he began a war upon us from a tur- 
bulent state of things; this man from peace and victory. 
We have the consuls elect to oppose him, in whom indeed 
we have great hopes; yet not without care for the uncer- 
tain event of battles. Assure yourself, therefore, that all 
our dependence is on you and your Brutus, and that you 
are both expected, but Brutus immediately."* 



*Ep. Fam.sii. x. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 159 



SECTION VI. 



In his efforts to secure the sovereign dignity, Caesar is 
said, in Plutarch, to have had the countenance and assist- 
ance of Cicero, who is spoken of as suffering himself to be 
imposed upon, old as he was, and as having solicited the 
people for him, and brought the senate to his interests. 
We are willing very readily to believe, that he was more 
than once surprisingly managed by this sagacious and as- 
piring boy ; yet there is some difficulty in giving full credit 
to his participation in this matter. Plutarch, it is probable, 
derived his authority from a perhaps questionable source, 
and the modern historian of Cicero produces a letter to 
Brutus, by which it appears that when Caesar was first rep- 
resented as desirous of the consulship, Cicero's efforts were 
anxious and unremitted in dissuading such a purpose. The 
letter, however, seems to have been written before the final 
action of the senate ; and hence, we may not assuredly in- 
fer that his opposition was enduring, as that body did ulti- 
mately consent, and to prevent his junction with Antony 
clothed Octavius with a power beyond the law. 

"Caesar," says Cicero, "who has hitherto been governed 
by my advice, and is indeed of an excellent disposition 
and wonderful firmness, some people by most wicked letters 
and messages, and fallacious accounts, have pushed on to 
an assured hope of the consulship. As soon as I perceived 
it, I never ceased admonishing him in absence, or reproach- 
ing his friends who are present, and who seem to encourage 
his ambition. Nor did 1 scruple to lay open the source of 
these traitorous counsels in the senate; nor do I ever re- 
member the senate or the magistrates to have behaved bet- 



160 SKETCH OF THE 

ter on any occasion ; for it never happened before, that in 
voting an extraordinary honor to a powerful, or rather most 
powerful man, since power is now measured by force and 
arms, that no tribune or any other magistrate, nor so much 
as a private senator would move for it ; yet in the midst of 
all this firmness and virtue, the city is greatly alarmed ; for 
we are abused, Brutus, by the licentiousness of the sol- 
diers, and the insolence of the general. Every one demands 
to have as much power in the state as he has means to ex- 
tort it: no reason, no moderation, no law, no custom, no 
duty, is at all regarded; no judgment, no opinion of the 
citizens, no shame of posterity."* 

Plutarch's story is, that Octavius, when he found the se- 
nate disposed to pursue vigorous measures, entreated Ci- 
cero to procure the consulship for them both ; promising 
that he would be ruled in the administration exclusively by 
his counsels, as he desired nothing but the honor; and 
states that Ceesar afterwards acknowledged that he had sea- 
sonably availed himself of Cicero's ambition; persuading 
him to stand for the consulship. We have given above, the 
letter on which the apologist of the orator has relied, in 
confutation of this charge. If genuine, and if stating the 
truth, it certainly goes far to relieve Cicero from this great 
stain; but by some it is thought to be spurious, and others 
are not disposed to yield to it implicit belief, against the 
testimony of Plutarch, Dion Cassius and Appian, who all 
agree in this matter; the rather, they say, as there is ample 
evidence of Cicero's want of rigid adherence to the truth. 
Mr. Melmoth thinks that there is strong reason to doubt 
the authenticity or veracity of the letter, and clearly shows 
that Cicero, if his philippics may be credited, did actually 
favor the earliest possible promotion of Octavius to the con- 
sulate. "Quid est enim patres conscripti, cur eum (Octa- 
vianum) non quam primum amplissimos honores capere cupi- 
amus ? Legibus, enim analibus, cum grandiorem aetatem 
ad consulatum constituebant, adoloscentise temeritatem ve- 
rebantur. Caesar ineunte aetate, docuit ab excellente exi- 

* A& Brut, ?. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 161 

tniaque virtute ptogressum cdatis expectari non opportere. In 
hoc, spes libertatis posita est; ab hoc accepta jam salus, 
huic summi honores, et exquiruntur et parati sunt."* 

These sentiments are beyond doubt irreconcilably at war 
with the letter to Brutus, and give great strength to the 
views of Melmoth, who thinks it probable that Plutarch 
took this piece of secret history from those memoirs, which 
Octavius wrote of his own life ; as it is certain that both 
that Greek and Appian made great use of them in com- 
piling their histories. If, however, we entertain a doubt in 
this matter unfriendly to the fame of Cicero, we have built 
it upon the view we have taken of his character, his well 
known readiness in squandering honors, often prejudicial, 
and upon his own sentiments as above revealed ; rather 
than assertions of Caesar, who must not be imagined to 
have been solicitous over much, to brighten the reputation 
of a man whom, with an excess of meanest perfidy, he had 
betrayed. 

But if we acquit Cicero of this last dishonorable subser- 
viency to the destroyer of the republic, it cannot be dis- 
guised that he had been, if not the parent, at least the 
cherisher of his now irresistible power. We have already 
seen that it was at his suggestion a command was confer- 
red upon Octavius, and that he should enjoy the rights of a 
propraetor, as also the dignity of the senate. It is moreover 
true, that on the defeat of Antony, in the distribution of 
honors to the commanders, the young general shared pro- 
fusely, and not against, but in compliance with Cicero's 
desire. The title of imperator was bestowed, and an ova- 
tion! decreed. These we may well suppose to have been 
ample ; yet it seems that there were not wanting senators 
who thought eveii this profusion niggard, and were desirous 
if possible to enlarge it. 

We shall hereafter speak of Cicero's course at this fatal 
juncture, and in the meantime enable the reader in the 
following letters to see the grounds upon which he was 



* Phil. 5. xvii. xviii. t Tbe lesser triumph. 

14* 



162 SKETCH OF THE 

subjected to the gravest charges, as also to estimate the 
justice of the truly Roman rebuke of Brutus. 

Cicero to Brutus. 

"You have now Messala with you. It is not possible, 
therefore, for me to explain by letter, though ever so accu- 
rately drawn, the present state of our affairs so exactly as 
he, who not only knows them all more perfectly, but can 
describe them more elegantly than any man ; for I would 
not have you imagine Brutus, (though there is no occasion 
to tell you what you know already yourself, but that I can- 
not pass over in silence, such an excellence of all good 
qualities :) I would not have you imagine, I say, that for 
probity, constancy, and zeal for the republic, there is any 
one equal to him ; so that eloquence, in which he wonder- 
fully excels, scarce finds a place among his other praises ; 
since even in that, his wisdom shines the most eminent, by 
his having formed himself with so much judgment and 
skill to the truest manner of speaking. Yet his industry 
is all the while so remarkable, and he spends so much of 
his time in study that he seems to owe little to his parts, 
which are still the greatest. But I am carried too far by 
my love of him; for it is not the purpose of this epistle to 
praise Messala, especially to Brutus, to whom his virtue is 
not less known than to myself; and these very studies 
which I am praising, still more ; whom when I could not 
part with without regret, I comforted myself with reflecting 
that by his going away to you, as it were to raj second self, 
he both discharged his duty, and pursued the surest way to 
glory. But so much for that. I come now, after a long 
interval, to consider a certain letter of yours, in which, 
while you allow me to have done well in many things, you 
find fault with me for one : that in conferring honors I was 
too free, and even prodigal. You charge me with this ; 
others probably in being too severe in punishing, or you 
yourself perhaps in both. If so, I desire that my judg- 
ment and sentiments in each, may be clearly explained to 
you ; not that I mean to justify myself by the authority of 



LIFE OF CICEHO. 163 

Solon, the wisest of the seven, and the only legislator of 
them all, who used to say that the public weal was com- 
prised in two things, rewards and punishments ; in which 
however, as in every thing else, a certain medium and tem- 
perament is to be observed. But it is not my design at 
this time to discuss so great a question. I think it proper 
only to open the reasons of my votes and opinions in the 
senate from the beginning of this war. After the death of 
Csesar, and those your memorable ides of March, you can- 
not forget Brutus what I declared to have been omitted by 
you, and what a tempest I foresaw hanging over the repub- 
lic. You had freed us from a great plague ; wiped off a 
great stain from the Roman people; acquired to yourselves 
divine glory ; yet all the equipage and furniture of kingly 
power were left still to Lepidus and Antony ; the one in- 
constant and the other vicious ; both of them afraid of 
peace, and enemies of the public quiet. While these men 
were eager to raise fresh disturbances, we had no guard 
about us to oppose them; though the whole city was eager 
and unanimous in asserting its liberty: I was then thought 
too violent; whilst you, perhaps more wisely, withdrew 
yourself from that city which you had delivered, and refused 
the help of Italy, which offered to arm itself in your cause. 
Whereupon, when I saw the city in the hands of traitors, 
oppressed by the arms of Antony, and that neither you nor 
Cassius could be safe in it, I thought it time for me to quit 
it too ; for a city overpowered by traitors is a wretched 
spectacle. Yet love of my country would not bear the 
thought of leaving it in distress ; in the midst therefore of 
my voyage to Greece, and in the very season of the Etesian 
winds, when an uncommon south wind, as if displeased 
with my resolution, had driven me back to Italy, I found 
you at Velia, and was greatly concerned at it ; you were 
retreating Brutus, I say were retreating, since your stoicks 
will not allow their wise men to fly. As soon as I came to 
Rome, I exposed myself to the wickedness and rage of 
Antony, and when I had exasperated him against me, began 
to enter into measures in the very manner of the Brutus's, 



164 SKETCH OF THE 

(for such are peculiar to your blood for delivering the repub- 
lic.) I shall omit the long recital of what follows, since it 
all relates to myself; and observe only that young Caesar, 
by whom if we will confess the truth, we subsist at this day, 
flowed from the source of my counsels. I decreed him no 
honors Brutus, but what were due ; none but what were 
necessary ; for as soon as we began to recover any liberty, 
and before the virtue of Decimus Brutus had shown itself 
so far that we could know its divine force, and while our 
whole defence was in the boy, who repelled Antony from 
our necks, what honor was not really due to him ? though 
I gave him nothing but the praise of words,* and that but 
moderate. I decreed him indeed a legal command, which 
though it seemed honorable to one of that age, was yet 
necessary to one who had an army ; for what is an army 
without the command of it? Philip voted him a statue; 
Servius, the privilege of suing for offices before the legal 
time, which was shortened still by Servilius ; nothing was 
then thought too much ; but we are apt, I know not how. 
to be more liberal in fear, than grateful in success. When 
Decimus Brutus was delivered from the siege, a day of all 
others most joyous to the city, which happened also to be 
his birth day, I decreed that his name should be forever 
ascribed to that day in the public calendars. In which I 
followed the example of our ancestors who paid the same 
honor to a woman, Larentia, at whose altar your priests 
perform sacred rites in the Velabrum ; by giving this to De- 
cimus Brutus, my design was to fix in the calendars a per- 
petual memorial of a most acceptable victory ; but I per- 
ceived on that day that there was more malevolence than 
gratitude in many of the senate. During these same days 
I poured out honors, since you will have it so, on the de- 
ceased Pansa, Hirtius, and Aquila; and who can find fault 
with it but those who. when fear is over, forget their past 
dangers ? But besides the grateful remembrance of ser- 
vices, there was an use in it which reached to posterity ; 

* See extract from Philippic page 137. 



LIFE OF CICERO. ]65 

for I was desirous that there should remain an eternal mon- 
ument of the public hatred to our most cruel enemy. 
There is one thing I doubt which does not please you, for 
it does not please your friends here, who though excellent 
men, have yet but little experience in public affairs ; that I 
decreed an ovation to Caesar, but for my part, (though I may 
be mistaken, for I am not one of those who approve 
nothing but what is my own,) I cannot but think that I 
have advised nothing more prudent during this war. Why 
it is so, it is not proper to be explained, lest I be thought 
to have been more provident in it than grateful ; but even 
this is too much ; let us pass, therefore, to other things. 
I decreed honors to Decimus Brutus, decreed them to Plan- 
cus; they must be men of great souls who are attracted by 
glory ; but the senate also, is certainly wise in trying every 
art that is honest, by which it can engage any one to the 
service of the republic. But I am blamed in the case of 
Lepidus, to whom after I had raised a statue in the rostra, 
I presently threw it down. My view in that honor was to 
reclaim him from desperate measures; but the madness of 
'an inconstant man got the better of my prudence; nor 
was there yet so much harm in erecting, as good in demol- 
ishing, the statue. But I have said enough about honors, 
and must say a word or two about punishments ; for as I 
have often observed from your letters, that you are fond of 
acquiring a reputation for clemency, by your treatment of 
those whom you have conquered in war, I can imagine 
nothing to be done by you, but what is wisely done, but to, 
omit the punishment of wickedness, (which we call par- 
doning) though it be pardonable in other cases, I hold it to 
be pernicious in this war. Of all the civil wars that have 
been in my memory, there was not one in which, what side 
soever got the better, there would not have remained some 
form of a commonwealth; yet in this what sort of a repub- 
lic we are like to have if we conquer, I would not easily 
affirm ; but if we are conquered, we are sure to have none. 
My votes, therefore, were severe against Antony, severe 
against Lepidus, not from any spirit of revenge, but to 



SKETCH OF THE 

r wicked citizens from making war against their coun- 
u j7 and to leave an example to posterity that none here- 
after should imitate such rashness ; yet this very vote was 
not more mine than it was everybody's; in which there 
seems I own to be something cruel that the punishment 
should reach to children who have done nothing to deserve 
it; but the constitution is both ancient and of all cities ; 
for even Themistocles' children were reduced to want; 
and since the same punishment falls upon citizens con- 
demned of public crimes, how was it possible for us to be 
more gentle to enemies. But how can that man complain 
of me, who if he had conquered must needs confess that 
he would have treated me with more severity. You have 
now the motives of my opinion in the case of rewards and 
punishments ; for as to other points, you have heard, I 
imagine, what my sentiments and votes have been. But to 
talk of these things now is not necessary. What I am 
going to say is extremely so Brutus. We are in the utmost 
expectation of you. Whenever you set foot in Italy all the 
world will fly to you ; come to Italy with your army as soon 
as possible ; for whether it be our lot to conquer, (as we 
had already done if Lepidus had not been desirous to over- 
turn all and perish himself with his friends,) there will be a 
great want of your authority for the settling some state of 
a city among us ; or if there be any danger and struggle 
still behind hasten to us for god's sake, for you know how 
much depends upon opportunity, how much on despatch. 
What diligence I shall use in the care of your sister's chil- 
dren, you will soon know I hope from your mother's and 
sister's letters, in whose cause I have more regard to your 
will, which is ever most dear to me, than as some think to my 
own constancy ; but it is my desire both to be and to ap- 
pear constant in nothing so much as loving you. 3 '* 

Brutus to Cicero. 

" I have read a part of your letter which you sent to 

* Ad. Brut. 15. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 167 

Octavius, transmitted to me by Atticus. Your zeal and 
concern for my safety, gave me no new pleasure ; for it is 
not only common, but our daily news, to hear something 
which you have said or done with your usual fidelity, in 
support of my honor, or dignity. Yet that same part of your 
letter affected me with the most sensible grief which my 
mind could possibly receive; for you compliment him so 
highly for his services to the republic, and in a strain so 
suppliant and abject, that what shall I say ? — I am ashamed 
of the wretched state to which we are reduced — yet it must 
be said — you recommend my safety to him, to which what 
death is not preferable ? and plainly show that our ser- 
vitude is not yet abolished, but our master only changed. 
Recollect your words, and deny them if you dare, to be 
the prayers of a slave to his king. There is one thing you 
say which is required and expected of him, that he would 
allow those citizens to live in safety, of whom all honest 
men and the people of Rome think well. But if he will 
not allow it, shall we be the less safe for that. It is better 
not to be safe, than to be saved by him. For my own part 
I can never think all the gods so adverse to the preserva- 
tion of the Roman people, that Octavius must be entreated 
for the life of any one citizen, much less for the deliverers 
of the world. It is a pleasure for me to talk thus magnifi- 
cently, and even becomes me to those who know not either 
what to fear for any one, or what to ask for any one. Can 
you allow Octavius to have this power, and yet be his 
friend? Or if you have any value for me, could you wish 
to see me at Rome, when I must first be recommended to 
the boy, that he would permit me to be there ? what reason 
have you to thank him, if you think it necessary to beg of 
him, that he would grant and suffer us to live in safety? or 
is it to be reckoned a kindness that he chooses to see him- 
self rather than Antony, in a condition to have such peti- 
tions addressed to him. One may supplicate indeed the 
successor, but never the abolisher, of tyranny, that those 
who have well deserved of the republic may be safe. It 
was this weakness and despair, not more blameable indeed 



168 SKETCH OF THE 

in you than in all, which first pushed Caesar to the ambi- 
tion of reigning, and after his death encouraged Antony 
to think of seizing his place, and has now raised this boy 
so high, that you think it necessary to address your prayers 
for the preservation of men of our rank ; and that we be 
saved only by the mercy of one scarce yet a man, and by 
no other means. But if we had remembered ourselves to 
be Romans, those infamous men would not be more daring 
to aim at dominion, than we to repel it; nor would Antony 
be more encouraged by Caesar's reign than deterred by his 
fate. How can you, a consular senator and the avenger of 
so many treasons (by suppressing which you have but post- 
poned our ruin I fear for a time,) reflect on what you have 
done, and yet approve these things, or bear them so tame- 
ly as to seem at least to approve them ? For what particular 
grudge had you to Antony ? No other but that he assumed all 
this to himself; that our lives should be begged of him ; our 
safety be precarious, from whom he had received his liber- 
ty ; and the republic depend upon his will and pleasure. 
You thought it necessary to take arms to prevent him from 
tyrannizing at this rate; but was it your intent in prevent- 
ing him, we might sue to another who would suffer himself 
to be advanced in his place ; or that the republic might be 
free and mistress of itself; as if our quarrels were not per- 
haps to slavery but the conditions of it. But we might 
have had not only an easy master in Antony, if we would 
have been content with that, but whatever share we pleased 
in favors and honors. For what could he deny to those 
whose patience he saw was the best support to his govern- 
ment, but nothing was of such value to us, as that we 
should sell our faith and liberty for it. This very boy whom 
the name of Caesar seems to incite against the destroyers of 
Caesar, at what rate would he value it, if there was any 
room to traffic with him, to be enabled by our help, to main- 
tain his present power, since we have a mind to live and 
be rich, and be called consulars ? But then Caesar must 
have perished in vain ; for what reason had we to rejoice at 
his death, if after it we were to continue slaves ? Let 



LIFE OF CICERO. 169 

other people be as indolent as they please, but may the 
gods and goddesses deprive me sooner of every thing than 
the resolution not to allow to the heir of him I killed, what 
I did not allow to the man himself; nor would suffer even in 
my father were he living, to have more power than the laws 
and the senate. How can you imagine that any one can be 
free under him without whose leave there is no place for us 
in that city ? or how is it possible to obtain, after all, what 
you ask ? You ask that he would allow us to be safe ; shall 
we then receive safety, think you, when we receive life ? 
But how can we receive it when we first part with our ho- 
nor and liberty? Do you fancy that to live at Rome is to 
be safe ? It is the thing, and not the place, that must se- 
cure that to me ; for I was never safe while Cassar lived, till 
I had resolved on that attempt; nor can I in any place live 
in exile as long as I hate slavery and affronts above all other 
evils. Is not this to fall back again to the same state of 
darkness, when he who has taken upon him the name of 
the tyrant (though in the cities of Greece, when the tyrants 
are destroyed, their children also perish with them,) must be 
entreated that the avengers of tyranny should be safe? Can 
I ever wish to see that city which would not accept liberty 
when offered, and even forced upon her, but has more dread 
of the name of the late king in the person of a boy, than 
confidence in herself; though it has seen that very king 
taken off in the height of his power, by the virtue of a few. 
As for me, do not recommend me any more to your Cassar, 
nor indeed yourself, if you will hearken to me. You set a 
very high value on the few years which remain to you at 
that age, if for the sake of them you can supplicate that 
boy. But take care, after all, lest what you have done and 
are doing so laudably against Antony, instead of being 
praised as the effect of a great mind, be not charged to the 
account of your fear. For if you are so pleased with Oc- 
tavius as to petition him for our safety, you will be thought 
not to have disliked a master, but to have wanted a more 
friendly one. As for your praising him for the things he has 
hitherto done, I entirely approve of it; for they deserved to 
15 



170 SKETCH OF THE 

be praised, provided that he undertook them to repel other 
men's power, not to advance his own. But when you ad- 
judge him not only to have this power, but that you ought 
to submit to it so far as to entreat him that he would not 
destroy us, you pay him too great a recompense; for you 
ascribe that very thing to him which the republic seemed to 
enjoy through him ; nor does it ever enter into your thoughts 
that if Octavius be worthy of any honors because he wages 
war with Antony, that those who extirpated the very evil 
of which they are but the relics, can never be sufficiently 
requited by the Roman people ; though they were to heap 
upon them every thing they could bestow. But see how 
much stronger people's fears are than their memories, be- 
cause Antony still lives and is in arms. As to Caesar, all 
that could and ought to be done, is passed, and cannot be 
recalled. Is Octavius a person of so great importance that 
the people of Rome are to expect from him what he will 
determine upon us ? or are we of so little, that any single 
man is to be entreated for our safety ? As for me, may I 
never return to you, if ever I either supplicate any man, or 
do not restrain those who are disposed to do so, from sup- 
plicating for themselves, or I will remain at a distance from 
all such as can be slaves, and fancy myself at Rome, wher- 
ever I can live free; and shall pity you, whose fond desire 
of life, neither age, nor honors, nor the example of other 
men's virtue, can moderate. For my part, I shall ever think 
myself happy as long as I can please myself with the per- 
suasion, that my piety has been fully requited. For what 
can be happier for a man conscious of virtuous actions, and 
content with liberty, to despise all human affairs. Yet I 
will never yield to those who are fond of yielding, or be 
conquered by those who are willing to be conquered ; but 
will first attempt every thing, nor ever desist from dragging 
our city out of slavery. If such fortune attend me as I 
ought to have, we shall all rejoice, if not, I shall rejoice 
myself; for how could this life be better spent than in acts 
and thoughts which tend to make my country free? I beg 
and beseech you, Cicero, not to desert the cause through 



LIFE OF CICERO. 171 

weariness or diffidence ; in repelling present evils, have 
your eye always on the future, lest they insinuate them- 
selves before you are aware; consider that the fortitude and 
courage with which you delivered the republic when con- 
sul, and now again when consular, are nothing without 
constancy and equality. The case of tried virtue is harder 
than that of untried ; we require services from it as debts, 
and if any thing disappoints us, we blame' with resentment 
as if we had been deceived. Wherefore, for Cicero to with- 
stand Antony, though it may be a part highly commendable ; 
yet because such a consul seemed of course to promise us 
such a consular, nobody wondered at it; but if the same 
Cicero in the case of others, should waver at last in that re- 
solution which he exerted with such firmness and greatness 
of mind against Antony, he would deprive himself not only 
of the hopes of future glory, but forfeit that which is past; 
for nothing is great in itself but what flows from the result 
of our judgment; nor does it become any man more than 
you, to love the republic, and be the patron of liberty, on 
the account either of your natural talents, or your former 
acts, or the wishes and expectations of all men. Octavius. 
therefore, must not be entreated to suffer us to live in safety. 
Do you rather rouse yourself so far, as to think that city in 
which you have acted the noblest part, free and flourishing 
as long as there are leaders still to the people, to resist the 
designs of tyrants."* 

Before presenting these letters, Middleton, who seems to 
have been determined, if possible, to rescue Cicero from 
any the least reproach, and this too in spite of powerful 
evidence produced on most occasions by himself with com- 
mendable fairness, indulges in a contrast of the respective 
writers, and how exalted soever as we have been taught to 

* Ad. Brut. xvi. There is a letter of Brutus, from which it has been inferred that 
Cicero had called Casca an assassin, which was one of the strong grounds of his 
displeasure. Dr. Middleton thinks the truth of this highly improbable, and argues 
that such an assertion is totally irreconcilable with the whole course of Cicero from 
the time of Caesar's death ; and is confirmed in his opinion by the fact to which 
we have referred, that he made it a condition of his friendship to Octavius, that he 
would not obstruct Casca 's admission to the tribunate to which he had been named 
by his victim. 



172 SKETCH OF THE 

regard it, was the character of Brutus, the orator, as usual, 
escapes triumphantly. The patriot is represented as ani- 
mated by a spirit far less noble than that of his immortal 
ancestor, and charged with the grossest inconsistency ; his 
manners are arraigned as not only uncourtly, but to no 
common extent arrogant and churlish, and his Very cle- 
mency denounced as effeminate, and as a departure from 
the rigid stoicism he boasted ; whilst the course of Cicero 
from the moment of Caesar's death, is extolled as disinte- 
rested, devoted, and in every way glorious. In considering 
the justice of the reproaches to which the latter was at this 
period subjected, we have little or nothing to do with the 
imputed degeneracy or ill-timed clemency of Brutus; and 
with regard to the courtesy of the parties in this contrast, 
the reader can have no difficulty in awarding the palm. 
But, charming as is politeness in this world of our's, and 
though one must needs partake somewhat of the brute to 
wound without provocation the feelings of his fellow, yet 
there are crises where courtesy would be crime, and even 
the harshest reproach an imperious demand of justice; nor 
can we imagine rebuke more righteous than that of a pa- 
triot, after a deed of blood, at which, but for the very high- 
est of human purposes, his mild nature would have shud- 
dered, checked in the midst of his fervent aspirations, in a 
quarter where patriotism altogether disinterested had been 
confidently hoped for, anjd where wisdom and eloquence of 
the first order were known to reside. 

Octavianus, after he had moulded the senate to his will, 
and obtained from it a power beyond the law, revealed at 
once his real designs, and left Rome immediately to mature 
with Antony and Lepidus the plan which had been before 
concerted : the formation of a league than which the history 
of mankind presents none more flagitious, or more coldly 
ambitious.* It was an union of men each hating the other, 

* We might, perhaps with propriety, have excepted in the text that vilest atrocity 
of modern kingship— the league dismembering Poland. By the way is it not strange 
to say no worse, that France and England, professed champions of human lights, 
and officiously meddling every day in the peninsula and elsewhere, avowedly with 
a view to the growth of free principles, should have so coldly regarded the accumu* 



LIFE OF CICERO. 173 

and each aspiring to dominion, but content to admit a part- 
ner in power, until the friends of liberty and the republic, 
their common enemies, might be crushed.* Their mutual 
distrust is seen in the extraordinary means of security re- 
sorted to preparatory to their meeting. A small river island 
of the Rhine was the scene of this impious alliance, and in 
sight of it each had placed a body of his choicest soldiers. 
Lepidus was the first to enter the island, and seeing no 
marks of treachery, a signal of approach was made, when 
Caesar opened the conference with an expression of thanks 
to Antony for his zeal in the destruction of Decimus Bru- 
tus, to whom the senate had not long before entrusted a 
part of his command, and who when deserted by Plancus 
had fled into Macedonia, where after varied distress he was 
finally slain by the soldiers of Antony, who conveyed his 
head to their commander.! Three days were then con- 
sumed in the adjustment of powers. Among the three, 
there was to be a joint supreme rule for five years, with the 
lying title of "triumvirs, to settle the state of the republic;" 
all magistrates at home and abroad were to be chosen by 
their joint act; and, in short, every thing was subjected to 
their sovereign pleasure. 

In the territorial arrangement, Octavius was to govern 
Africa with Sicily, Sardinia, and the other isles of the Medi- 
ated wrongs and dauntless valor of the Poles. Perhaps the "mangled" Poland 
lacked a key to their commercial sympathies. God grant, at all events, that with 
buoyancy and energies unhelped, if it must be so, she may yet rise in vengeance and 
baffle the despot who is grinding her with a power begun in robbery and sustained 
by outrage. 

* Middle ton. 
fit will be recollected with what constancy Decimus Brutus had maintained his 
hold upon Modena : he was one of the conspirators, and was master at the commence- 
ment of the war of a large fortune, which was cheerfully devoted to the service of 
the republic. Indeed it would seem from a letter to Cicero, that his zeal had com- 
pletely impoverished him. His fate was a melancholy one, and was preceded by 
distresses of a nature to remind us of the sufferings of Prince Charles Edward when 
wandering in Scotland. An attempt has been made by the old writers, to fix a stain 
upon the name of Brutus, who, they would have us believe, displayed the utmost 
pusillanimity when taken. It is however well thought, that this attempt sprung from 
a desire to blacken all, in any way instrumental to the death of Caesar ; and it cer* 
tainly finds no support in that part of his conduct to which these pages have inci- 
dentally referred. He was of the famous race of the Bruti, and was at the begin- 
ning of the war worth one million and a half of dollars, and when he wrote to Ci- 
cero, was maintaining seven legions at his own expense. 

15* 



174 SKETCH OF THE 

terranean ; Lepidus, Spain, with the Narbonese Gaul ; and 
Antony the other two Gauls on both sides of the Alps. Fi- 
nally, Caesar was to resign the consulship, and Lepidus, 
with a number of legions guard the city, whilst his associ- 
ates should prosecute the war against the republican armies 
tinder Brutus and Cassius ; and it was determined that at 
the close of the war, the fairest cities and colonies of Italy 
should be wrested from their peaceful owners, and given in 
recompense to the soldiers. The armies hailed the league 
with rapture, and it was cemented by the marriage of Octa* 
vius with Claudia, Antony's daughter-in-law. 

"Having thus," as Plutarch says, "divided the empire as 
a paternal inheritance," and fixed the limit of the rule of 
each, there followed next a relentless proscription. In this. 
it is pretended, that there were warm disputes among them; 
that in the breast of Octavius at least, the common feelings 
of humanity were allowed to operate, and that he was ar- 
dent in his desire to save the prince of their victims, Cicero : 
withholding his assent to this sacrifice for two days, till 
finally overpowered by his colleagues : the one devoting a 
brother, the other an uncle. This has been strongly denied ; 
and the tenderness of the young man is said to have been 
altogether artificial, to give a better color to his ingratitude.* 
For ourselves, we can easily imagine either course on the 
part of Octavius, by no'means wonderful ; for though in the 
outset of his splendid life he may have thought it wise to 
feign the highest veneration for the character of Cicero, and 
to beseech his countenance and aid in the laudable and 
other purposes he at first avowed; he might, in truth, have 
regarded him with hate, as the friend of Brutus, and uni- 
form panegyrist of that act by which his father fell, and may 
have looked upon his immolation in the light of filial piety, 
or he may have in sincerity been animated by feelings of re- 
gard for Cicero, and had certainly no very recent proof of 
his unconquerable aversion, as an apostle of liberty, to his 
own aggrandizement. 

We may discern the spirit of this flagitious league in its 

* Widdleton. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 175 

description by Plutarch. "I believe," says he, "there was 
never any thing so atrocious or so execrably savage, as this 
commerce of murder; for while a friend was given up for 
an enemy received, the same action murdered at once the 
friend and the enemy, and the destruction of the former was 
still more horrible, because it had not even resentment for 
its apology." 

If we review the course of Antony andOctavius from the 
moment of Caesar's death, and the arrival of the latter from 
Macedonia, though the turpitude of both be manifest, we 
cannot but concede that in the conception and prosecution of 
their plans, there was a display of eminent talents and equal 
address; accompanied in the one with valor and constancy, 
and with adequate firmness in the other. We have seen 
with what skill, at a moment when his own doubts and fears 
were yet unquieted, Antony had won the inconstant Lepi- 
dus to his will; employing him at home, until his presence 
in Italy was no longer needful, and then despatching him 
into Gaul, as a resource in the event of disaster.* We 
next beheld him stimulating by his eloquence the passions 
of the Romans, and prompting them to revenge the mur- 
der of the man who had enslaved them : forcing from the 
city his greatest enemy Cicero, and with him the deliverers 
of their country; in the field and in misfortune, command- 
ing applause, by his valor in the one, and heroic fortitude 
in the other; retreating upon means which, in the outset, 
his sagacity had provided ; and ultimately reaching vast do- 
minion ; whilst on the other hand is seen Octavius, a child, 
winning with consummate art the co-operation and assured 
pledges of the great republican statesman of the day; de- 
bauching with money and the charm of his name, the vete- 
ran soldiers in Italy ; driving thence a most formidable rival ; 
securing the command of the armies on the death of the 
consuls ; and at last in a triple league, fixing the basis of an 
imperial power. 

The fate of Lepidus, the puppet of them both, though far 
from adequate to his crimes, was well suited to his stupid 

• Middleton. 



176 SKETCH OF THE 

ambition. Octavianus soon corrupted his troops: and though 
he suppliantly threw himself upon his knees, he was strip- 
ped of all power and banished to Circeii, 

Spoliata quam tueri non poterat dignitas."— Vtl. Pat. 2. 8.* 

The proscription in which the great orator and republican 
perished, embraced, we are told, three hundred senators 
and two thousand knights ; and it is also said that the re- 
sentment and avarice of the triumvirs were extended to the 
softer sex. It was proposed to select from the women of 
the highest quality in Rome, fourteen hundred of the richest, 
who were to render an account of their wealth, and to be 
taxed in proportion. But here the ladies were saved, in 
some degree, from the rapine of their rulers, by the deter- 
mined eloquence of one of their own body. Hortensia, the 
daughter of the orator whose renown had given so great an 
impulse to the efforts of Cicero, was undaunted in her op- 
position to a measure, as offensive to gallantry as to justice, 
and prevailed so far as to lessen the number of the pro- 
scribed fair, to four hundred. Whereupon an indemnity 
was sought in an extension of the tax upon men ; and it is 
said that one hundred thousand, as well strangers as citi- 
zens, were compelled to accelerate the total ruin of the 
freedom of Rome.! 

It was the design of the triumvirs, when their alliance 
was consummated, to conceal as far as possible their black 

* We may here, without apology, again refer to the mighty dramatist. He seems 
to have had just views of Lepidus, and has in his tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra, 
with some drollery, told us his attitude with his colleagues. 

Lepidus. What manner o'thing is your crocodile? 
Antony. It is shaped, sir, like itself ; aud it is as broad 
As it has breadth ; it is just so high as it is, and 
Moves with its own organs ; it lives by that which 
Nourisheth it; and the elements once out of it, it 
Transmigrates. 
Lepidus. What color is it of? 
Antony. Of its own color, too. 

Lepidus. 'Tis a strange serpent. 
Antony. 'Tis so, and the tears of it are wet. 
Cesar. Will this description satisfy him. 

Antony. Else he is a very epicure, 
t Apfrfan has preserved the discourse which Hortensia pronounced. At the head 
of her companions she dared to plead their cause before the triumvirs, where men 
bending under oppression durst not raise theii eyes or open their mouths.— D'Arnay. 






LIFE OF CICERO. 177 

determination to seek so broad revenge in the death of the 
republicans ; and the doom which was at first promulged, 
was limited in all to a list of about seventeen of the most 
prominent victims; at the head of which was Cicero. To 
murder these, agents were despatched at once ; but the in- 
tentions of the triumvirs not being known, the consterna- 
tion of the citizens on the arrival of the executioners was 
inexpressible. The consul Paedius, to appease their fears, 
assured them that the proscription was limited ; but his own 
horror had been such as to have destroyed him : his death 
was almost immediate.* 

We are told that when the intelligence of his doom 
reached Cicero, he was with his brother Quintus at hisTus- 
culan villa, and that his first determination was to proceed 
to Astura, one of his country seats near the sea, whence he 
designed to sail into Macedonia to Brutus, who was re- 
ported to be in great power. His brother and he, the same 
writer! adds, were both oppressed with sorrow and despair; 
and Quintus the more so, as he was in want of necessaries, 
having brought nothing with him from home. It was there- 
fore concluded that Cicero, who was himself but slenderly 
provided, should hasten at once to the sea, whilst Quintus 
should return to his house to supply himself. The latter, 
with his son, was soon betrayed and slain. 

Cicero embarked; but the winds not proving fair, he soon 
landed at Circeii, where, Dr. Middleton informs us, he passed 
a night of great anxiety and irresolution; and on the autho- 
rity of Seneca adds, that the question there was, whether he 
should fly to Brutus or to Cassius, or to S. Pompeius : but 
that death, on deliberation, was most pleasing to him.J In 
the midst of this perplexity, he is said to have contemplated 
self-murder in the house of Caesar, as an invocation to the 
divine vengeance upon his betrayer; a determination which 
in his contrast of Demosthenes and Cicero, Plutarch would 
seem to have approved, but from which this author adds he 

* P lut. in Ant. et Cic. Appian. Dio p. 326. Vel. Pat. 2. 6. 5. 
t Plutarch. 

JCremutius Cordus ait, Ciceroni cum cogitasset, numme Hrutum an Cassium an 
Sextum Pompeium peteret omnia displicuitse prseier mortem. Senec. Suasor. 6. 



178 SKETCH OF THE 

was deterred through fear of torture. Carried at last to 
Cajeta, weary of his life and the sea, he seems to have 
found a proud consolation in the power still left him to die 
in the country he had saved.* 

If we credit the old writers, we must believe that on the 
approaching fate of this illustrious man, a part of the brute 
species itself, seemed conscious of his peril, and that no 
effort of native rhetoric was spared to avert it. One of them 
says that "there was a temple of Apollo on the coast, from 
which a flight of crows came with great noise towards Ci- 
cero's vessel as it was making the land. They perched on 
both sides of the sail yard, where some sat croaking, and 
pecking the ends of the ropes ; all looked upon this as an 
ill omen, yet Cicero went on shore, and entering his house 
lay down to repose himself. In the mean time a number of 
the crows settled upon the chamber window, and croaked 
in the most doleful manner. One of them even entered, 
and alighting upon the bed, attempted with its beak to draw 
off the clothes with which he had covered his face. On 
sight of this the servants began to reproach themselves. 
Shall we, said they, remain to be spectators of our master's 
murder? Shall we not protect him, so innocent and so 
great a sufferer as he is, when the brute creatures give him 
marks of their care and attention ? Then partly by entreaty, 
and partly by force, they got him into a litter and carried 
him towards the sca."t 

Whilst on the way to the shore, the soldiers came up, 
broke open the doors, and commenced a search for Cicero; 
his servants denying that they knew any thing of him. It 
was said by some, from whom Plutarch professes to have 
taken the account, that the assassins were directed to the 
litter by Philologus, a freedman of Quintus. Tiro, how- 
ever, was silent as to this imputed treachery, and the story, 
therefore, is probably unfounded. $ Besides, Philologus had 

*Taedium tandem eum et fugae et vitas caepit: regressusque ad superiorem villam, 
quae paulo plus mille passibus a mari abest, Moriar, inquit, in patria saepe Bervata. — 
Liv. Frag, apud Senec, Suasor. 1. vid. Plut. in Cic. 
f Plutarch in Cic. 

J Tiro wrote a life of Cicero, and a number of treatises, all of which are lost. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 179 

been instructed by Cicero in the liberal arts and sciences, 
and partook, in all likelihood, of the strong affection of the 
slaves. Popilius Laenas, who commanded the party, and 
who took an active part in the murder, was also greatly 
bound to him, and had, in fact, been successfully defend- 
ed by him in a charge of parricide. It is said that the 
slaves, if left to themselves, would hav€ defended their mas- 
ter to the last; but that he himself commanded them, when 
the party came up, to put down the litter, and forego all at- 
tempt to save him.* "He then put his left hand to his chin, 
as was his custom, and looked steadfastly upon his murder- 
ers ; the expression of misery in his face, overgrown with 
hair and wasted with anxiety, so much affected the attend- 
ants of the officer, that they covered their faces during this 
melancholy scene."! Stretching his neck from the litter, 
he bade them take what they desired. His head and hands 
were severed from his body, and in obedience to an infernal 
impulse of revenge, placed by Antony's order in the Rostra ; 
the scene of his multiplied triumphs and mighty efforts for 
the commonwealth. t" 



*Satis constat, servos fortiter fideliterque paratos fuisse ad dimicandum: ipsum 
deponi lecticam,et quietos pati,quod sors iniqua cogeret, jussisse. — Liv.Frag. apud 
Senec. Sxiasor. 

f Plutarch. 

J Cicero was killed on the seventh of December, about ten days from the settle- 
ment of the triumvirate, after he had lived sixty-three years, eleven months, and five 
days.— Middle-ton. 



t. 

At. 
that 



16 



180 SKETCH OF THE 



SECTION VII. 



Before we come to descant upon the qualities of the 
father, we will here with a view to vindicate his claim to a 
milder esteem of posterity, devote a few pages to Cicero, 
the son. In their estimate of his character, the older 
writers seem to have completely overlooked that equitable 
rule by which the historian is taught, when inflexibly de- 
claring and denouncing the vices of an individual, to yield 
at the same time deserved tribute to his virtues. A like 
error has prevailed in our day, and it is now generally be- 
lieved that the young man was in truth, as represented, 
stupid and vicious, and in every way degenerate.* That 
he was in the early part of his life any thing but stupid, is 
clear from the important trusts confided to him, both by 
Pompey and Brutus; the latter being warm and constant 
in his praise, and describing him as of singular industry, 
and adequate skill as a commander.! It is certain too, that 
so far from the degeneracy imputed to him, he was in the 
high feeling of patriotism at least, not only not inferior to 
his father, but far more inflexible than he in that virtue. 
We find him challenging applause for his uncompromising 
hate to tyranny, and fighting bravely, and with distinction, 
in the republican armies, from the commencement of the 
civil war till freedom breathed her latest sigh in Sicily; a 



* Ciceronem filium quae res consulem fecit, nisi pater? Seneca de Benefic, 4, 30. 
Nam virtutes omnes aberant; stupor et vitia aderunt. Lipsii. JSTot. ad locum. 

•f ''Your son," writes Brutus, ''recommends himself to me so effectually by his 
industry, patience, activity, greatness of mind, and in short bj every duty, th' 
he seems never to drop the remembrance of whose son he is: wherefore since » 
not possible for me to make you love him more than you do already, yet - 
thus much to my judgment, as to persuade yourself that he will have no occa 
borrow any share of your glory, in order to obtain his father's honors. 

Kal. Apr. ad Brut >.. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 181 

constancy, for which, if the truth be told, the sire was not 
distinguished ; for we have seen him deserting the cause 
of his country at a moment when many of its illustrious 
friends did not despair, but were on the contrary in a pros- 
perous condition in arms. 

With regard to the conduct of the son at Athens, where 
he ingenuously admits that he had been truant to himself, 
we may learn from the following letters, that he had not in 
vain seen the folly of his course. There is in the first of 
them a tone of sincerity which cannot be withstood. "I 
came hither," says Trebonius, "on the first of May, where 
I saw your son, and saw him to my great joy pursuing 
every thing that was good and in the highest credit for the 
modesty of his behaviour. Do not imagine my Cicero, 
that I say this to flatter you, for nothing can be more be- 
loved than your young man is, by all who are at Athens, 
nor more studious of all those arts which you yourself de j 
light in, that is the best. I congratulate with you, there- 
fore, very heartily, which I can do with great truth, and not 
less also with myself, that he whom we were obliged to love, 
of what temper soever he had happened to be, proves to be 
such a one as we should choose to love."* Again, the 
younger Lentulus writes : " I did not see your son when I 
was with Brutus, as he had just gone into winter quarters 
with the cavalry, but I had the satisfaction of finding that 
he was in general esteem, which gave me great pleasure, 
not only on his own account and yours, but likewise upon 
my own ; for I can but consider a son of yours who thus 
copies out his father's virtues, as standing in the relation 
to me of a brother."! 

The fine qualities so extolled in these letters had, as we 
have seen, attracted the notice and high encomiums of Bru- 
tus ; and it is clear from several letters to Atticus, that in 
the judgment of his father, the young Cicero while at 
Athens had well profited by the very great facilities which 
that refined seat of the Muses afforded, and that an elegant 

*Ep. Fam. 12. xvi. f Melmoth 3. 320. 

16 



182 SKETCH OF THE 

taste accompanied his knowledge , nor was this judgment 
formed with the blind impartiality of paternal love ; for 
when pronounced it is evident that Cicero had been cau- 
tious in listening to his praises, and took his opinion from 
sources, in which there was no great danger of deception.* 
The young man's letters had highly gratified his father; 
and if the following one of the only two preserved, dis- 
close his genuine feelings, there was in his character an 
engaging suavity and most commendable filial piety. 

Cicero the son to Tiro. 

"While I was expecting every day with impatience your 
messengers from Rome, they came at last on the forty- 
sixth day after they left you ; their arrival was extremely 
agreeable to me ; for my father's most indulgent and most 
affectionate letter gave me an exceeding joy, which was 
still highly increased by the receipt of yours ; so that in- 
stead of being sorry for my late omission of writing, I was 
rather pleased that my silence had afforded me so particular 
a proof of your humanity. It is a great pleasure, therefore, 
to me, that you accepted my excuse so readily. I do not 
doubt my dearest Tiro but that the reports which are now 
brought of me, gave you a real satisfaction. It shall be 
my care and endeavor that this growing fame of me shall 
every day come more and more confirmed to you, and since 
you promise to be the trumpeter of my praises, you may 
venture to do it with assurance, for the past errors of my 
youth have so mortified me, that my mind does not only 
abhor the facts themselves, but my ears cannot even en- 
dure the mention of them. I am perfectly assured that in 
all this regret and solicitude, you have borne no small share 
with me, nor is it to be wondered at; for though you wish 
me all success for my sake, you are engaged also to 



* A Cicerone mihiliterae sane 7r£w«va)/t£i/*<, et bene longs. Cstera autem vel fingl 
possnntir'i'o; literarum significat doctiorem. [ad Att.l4.vii.J Mehercule ipsius liters 
sic et $«\oo-Topyujs et evx-ivui; scripts ut eas vel inacroasi audeam legere; quo magia 
illi indulgendum puto.— Ad. Att. xv. xvii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 183 

do it for your own ; since it was always my resolution to 
make you the partner of every good that may befall me. If 
I have before, therefore, been the occasion of sorrow to 
you, so it shall now be my business to double your joy on 
my account. You must know that I live in the utmost 
intimacy with Cratippus, and like a son rather than a 
scholar; for I not only hear his lectures with pleasure, but 
am infinitely delighted with his conversation: I spend 
whole days with him, and frequently a part of the night; 
for I prevail with him as often as I can to sup with me, and 
in our familiar chat as we sit at table, the night steals 
upon us without thinking of it, whilst he lays aside the 
severity of his philosophy, and jokes amongst us with all 
the good humor imaginable. Contrive, therefore, to come 
to us as soon as possible and see this agreeable and excel- 
lent man. For what need I tell you of Bruttius, whom I 
never part with out of my sight. His life is regular and 
exemplary, and his company the most entertaining. He 
has the art of introducing questions of literature into con- 
versation, and seasoning philosophy with mirth. I have 
hired a lodging for him in the next house to me, and sup- 
port his poverty as well as I am able out of my narrow in- 
come. I have begun also to declaim in Greek under Cas- 
sius, but chose to exercise myself in Latin with Bruttius. I 
live likewise in great familiarity and perpetual company 
with those whom Cratippus brought with him from Mity- 
lene, who are men of learning and highly esteemed by him. 
Epicrates also, the leading man at Athens, and Leonidas, 
spend much of their time with me, and many others of the 
same rank. This is the manner of my life at present. As 
to what you write about Gorgias he was useful to me in- 
deed in my daily exercise of declaiming; but I gave up 
all considerations for the sake of obeying my father, who 
wrote peremptorily that I should dismiss him instantly. I 
complied, therefore, without hesitation, lest by showing any 
reluctance I might raise in him a suspicion of me. Be- 
sides I reflected that it would seem indecent to deliberate 
upon the judgment of a father. Your zeal, however, and 



184 SKETCH OF THE 

advice upon it are very agreeable. I admit your excuse of 
want of leisure; for I know how much your time is com- 
monly taken up. I am mightily taken with your purchase 
of a farm, aud heartily wish you joy in it. Do not wonder 
at my congratulating you in this part of my letter, for it was 
the same part of yours in which you informed me of the 
purchase. You have a place now where you may drop all 
the forms of the city, and are become a Roman of the old 
rustic stamp. I see you bartering for your country wares. 
or consulting with your bailiffs, or carrying off from your 
table in a corner of your vest the seeds of your fruits and 
melons for your gardens. But to be serious, I am as much 
concerned as you are, that I happened to be out of the 
way, and could not assist you on that occasion ; but de- 
pend upon it my Tiro, I will make you easy one time or 
other, if fortune does not disappoint me ; especially since 
I know that you have bought this farm for the common use 
of us both. I am obliged to you for your care in execut- 
ing my order, but beg of you that a librarian may be sent 
to me in all haste, and especially a Greek one; for I waste 
much of my time in transcribing the lectures and books 
that are of use to me. Above all things, take care of your 
health, that we may live to hold many learned conferences 
together. 1 recommend Athenasus to you. Adieu."* 

When Sextus Pompey who commanded a large fleet and 
army in Sicily, made peace with the triumvirate, it was one 
of its conditions that the exiled Romans shouid be re- 
stored to their country and fortunes ; and Cicero returned 
to Rome where he for some time remained in the condition 
of a private noble, t abstaining from all affairs of state, and 
attached to the last to the republican principles, which 
throughout the latter part of his life, were in the field up- 
held. He had, however, been honored by Octavius, and 
after the decisive battle of Actium, in which Antony, the 
destroyer of his father, was forever ruined, was made by 
the victor his partner in the consulate. It is true that in 

* Ep. Fam. xvi. xxi, t Appiau. Middletoij,. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 185 

the meantime he had again fallen into the profligate 
course once so ingenuously deplored, and yielded to a vice 
which has forever associated his name with reproach ; the 
more indelible, as the state of Rome for the residue of 
his life was such as to preclude a display of the virtues 
which he did in truth possess, and which as we have seen 
were often made signally to subserve the noble purposes 
to which his youth had been devoted.* His aberrations, 
criminal as they really were, attracted naturally the greater 
notice because of his high name and rank, and were in 
proportion, we doubt not, the more generally bruited and 
condemned ; for there is nothing surer than that 

" Greatest scandal waits on greatest state. 
The moon being clouded, -presently is mist : 
But little stars may hide them when they list." f 

It is probable too, that the comparative moral excellence 
of his father's private life influenced in no small degree the 
public censure of his vice. 

To Pliny does the young Cicero chiefly owe the immor- 
tal infamy coupled with his name. This writer, who seems 
to have been industrious in embodying the statistics of the 
cup, speaks of drunkards, who having slept off their de- 
bauch, returned to the charge, drinking glass after glass 
without taking breath, and to make a parade of their 
strength, swallowing it with such greediness, that they 
were obliged to give it back immediately, which they reite- 
rated many times at the same sitting; J and adds that such 
was the habit of Marc Antony, who wrote a book of his 



*" But it has been your lot my son to come into the world amid the broils of z di- 
vided state; and yet in the command you held under Pompey, even in this very 
war, you acquitted yourself as a man at arm3 to all purposes; an excellent horse- 
man, a person of indefatigable industry, and all this both to the common satisfac- 
tion of the glorious general and the whole commonwealth. But the commonwealth 
itself sunk here, and so did your glory." — De Ojjrc. 2. 

f Rape Of Lucrece.— Shahspeare. 

JCautissimos ex his balineis coqui videmus, exanimesque efferri. Jam vero 
alios lectum expectare non posse, imo vero nee tunicam, nudos ibi protinus anhe- 
los ingentia vasacorripere, velut ad ostentationem virium, ac plane infundere, ut 
statim evomant, rursusque hauriant, idque iterum tertiumque. 

Plin. Nat. His. xiv. xxii, 



186 SKETCH OF THE 

triumphs in hard drinking. The same author tells us that 
the young Cicero made himself famous for the quantity of 
wine he could swallow at a single draft, as if he had under- 
taken to rob the murderer of his father of the glory of 
being the first drunkard in the empire.* It also appears, 
that on one occasion when heated with wine, he had thrown 
a goblet at the head of Agrippa, who was in Rome, the 
next in dignity to the emperor.; provoked as Dr. Middle- 
ton suggests, by some difference in politics, or some affront 
to the late champions, and vanquished cause of the re- 
public. 

We have thus presented the fairer qualities, together 
with the loathsome vice of this young Roman, and readily 
join in reprobation of the latter; but we do not the less be- 
lieve that succeeding ages have been most unjust in loudly 
proclaiming the one, and wrongfully overlooking the other. 
It is the demand of justice that we contemplate his character 
as a whole, and not heedlessly rank him with the wretch of 
the satirist, 



Monstrum, nulla virtute rcdemptum. 

In the close of the life of his father, Plutarch says, that 
under the auspices of the son when consul, the senate took 
down the statues of Antony, defaced all the monuments of 
his honor, and decreed that for the future none of his 
family should bear the name of Marcus ; thus the divine 
vengeance reserved the completion of Antony's punish- 
ments to the house of Cicero. We incline to infer from 
the character of the son, that he must have believed the 
course of Augustus, in regard to his father's death, involun- 
tary as was pretended ; else it is not probable, that with his 
spirit and filial piety, of both of which there is no lack of 



* Sednimirum bane gloriam auferre Cicero voluit inlerfectori patris sui Marco 
Antonio. la enim, ante eum avidissitne apprehenderat hanc palmam, editoetiam, 
volumine de sua ebrietate. Pliny remarks that Antony vomited this book, 
• short time before the battle of Actium. Hortensius's son was also dissipated. 
Cicero tells us that in Cilicia he had, from respect to his father, once invited him t and 
only once, to supper. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 187 

proof, he would have deigned to partake at all in the im- 
perial kindness which appears to have been extended to 
him to the last; as he died it is thought a short time after 
his proconsular government of Syria.* 

Cicero, the nephew, if clear of the vice which stained 
his cousin's character, appears to have been mischievous 
and without principle. Devoid of all delicacy as to the 
means of advancing his fortunes, he not merely followed 
Csesar, but was industrious in traducing his uncle, suppos- 
ing that course grateful to the conqueror. Indeed it would 
seem from the following letter, that his own father, if it 
suited an emergency, was in nothing spared. We have 
somewhere learned, however, that in the melancholy scene 
which closed their lives, he was at once affectionate and 
brave. 

" There is nothing new," writes Cicero, "but that Hir- 
tius has been quarrelling in my defence with our nephew 
Quintus, who takes all occasions of saying every thing bad 
of me, and especially at public feasts ; and when he has 
done with me falls next upon his father. He is thought to 
say nothing so credible as that we are both irreconcilable 
to Caesar; that Caesar should trust neither of us, and even 
beware of me. This would be terrible, did I not see that 
our king is persuaded that I have no spirit left."t 

* Middleton. f Ad. Atticum 13, xxxvii. 



189 SKETCH OF THE 



SECTION VIII. 



Cicero was tall and slender, and remarkable for a neck 
particularly long. He does not appear to have inherited a 
strong constitution ; but through uniform temperance and 
well regulated exercise, w r ith the use of the bath and rub- 
bing of his body, he imparted to it a strength and health, 
which, in spite of professional fatigues, and industry never 
surpassed, he retained through life with but few interrup- 
tions. His principal remedy, when indisposed, was rigorous 
abstinence. We learn from Plutarch, that "when a young 
man, his habit was lean, and his stomach so weak that he 
was constrained to be very sparing in his diet, and not to 
eat till a late hour in the day, and that he was so exact in 
all respects, that he had his- stated hours for rubbing and the 
exercise of walking. 

"As to his features," says Dr. Middleton, they were re- 
gular and manly, and his countenance retained to the last 
a comeliness and dignity, with a certain air of cheerfulness 
and serenity, that imprinted both affection and respect."* 

"In his clothes and dress," the same writer remarks, 
"which the wise have usually considered as an index of the 
mind, he observed what he prescribes in his book of offices, 
a modesty and decency adapted to his rank and character; 
a perpetual cleanliness without the appearance of pains; 
free from the affectation of singularity ; and avoiding the 
extremes of a rustic negligence and foppish delicacy, both 
of which are equally contrary to true dignity; the one im- 



*Ei quidem facies decora ad senectutem, prosperaque permansit valetudo. 
Poll. apud. Senec. Suasor. 






LIFE OF CICERO. 189 

plying an ignorance or illiberal contempt of it, the other a 
childish pride and ostentation of proclaiming our preten- 
sions to it."* In this matter to which the reader may think 
that the wise men referred to have attached a more than 
merited importance, the good sense of Cicero is obvious, 
Polonius himself could have detected no fault in his pre- 
cepts. It appears, however, that his great rival Hortensius, 
was not of this school, and was studious to excess of ele- 
gance in attire. We learn from an entertaining French 
work before us, of which we have made frequent use, that 
he dressed himself before a mirror, and was as careful in 
adjusting the folds of his toga as in the structure of his pe- 
riods. He took them in and fastened them with a girdle, 
the knot of which was so cunningly tied, that it was lost in 
the folds of his robe, which seemed to flow negligently 
loose. Having on one occasion taken great pains in deck- 
ing his person, finding himself in a very narrow passage 
where his colleague — for he was then consul — ruffled him 
somewhat, he treated the violence to his toga as a capital 
affair, and cited the author of so singular an injury, before 
the judges. Quintilian has not overlooked such things, 
and explains at length, in what manner an orator should 
manage his gown when pleading; and there can indeed be 
no doubt, when we consider the Roman costume, that a 
just taste in this particular must have been no unimportant 
component of that grace, without which the finest elo- 
quence loses a charm. t 

"We need not want to be told," says Bulwer, "that the 
Roman nobles were polished and urbane ; that they prac- 
tised all the seductions of manners; we ought to know this 
at once by reading the methods of their elections."} How 

*DeOffic. 1. 36. 
fCould any doubt exist of the importance of grace and elegance in action, the 
story which is told of Burke would dispel it. Were we to judge from his speeches 
as we read them, we should infer, to use his own language as applied to Sheridan, 
that thousands would have hung with rapture on his accents ; yet it is said that a 
celebrated advocate, [Erskine, if we recollect aright,] could not with patience hear 
to its conclusion, one of his speeches in the House of Commons, which from bad 
manner lost its attraction, but which in itself, was of so seductive power, that Ers= 
&Uie ceased not to read his copy until it was in tatters. 

I England and the English, i. Hi. 



190 SKETCH OF THE 

far Cicero was governed by the interested motive which the 
delightful novelist has suggested, we will not undertake to 
determine; but there can, we think, be no doubt, that in his 
intercourse with society, there was an unusual share of the 
suavity and elegance of manners, which, together with in- 
tellectual culture and moral rectitude, make up our idea of 
the finished gentleman. These, without other cause, might 
well have sprung from his mild nature and great good sense; 
and though in the admirable work addressed to his son, he 
does not raise them to the elevated rank which the courtly 
noble of the past age has claimed for them, yet his letters 
teach how keenly he was alive to the charm they impart, 
and how sensibly was felt the want of them even in those 
the most recommended by character and virtues to his es- 
teem. He often declares that "the letters of Brutus were 
churlish, unmannerly and arrogant, and that he regarded 
neither what nor to whom he was writing;"* but in no one 
instance, as we remember, was he betrayed in his replies, 
into an expression which the highest delicacy and breeding 
could arraign. It is true that the gentleman of our day, 
howsoever deeply offended, would not allow himself the 
license of the speech against Piso, nor is it probable that a 
modern assembly would tolerate its presence ; yet we should 
bear in mind, that such unmitigated invectives were com- 
mon at Rome, and that a most afflictive and justly resent- 
ful part of Cicero's life was associated with the name of 
Piso.t 

If in any thing he may be thought to have forgotten the 
politeness which distinguished him, it was as we have said, 
in the indulgence of his wit. Were it at all important to 
his standing with after ages, that his pretensions as a hu- 
morist should have been established, we might lament the 
loss of the collections of his sayings known to have been 
made by his friend Trebonius and freedman Tiro; as those 
of them preserved by Plutarch, and such of them as we 
gather from his own writings, not merely exclude the idea 

* Middlcton. 
fPiso and hia colleague were instrumental in banishing him. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 191 

of great power as a wit, but subject him, as we think, to the 
imputation we have suggested.* 

Even at a time when the wealth of the great was far 
more extended than that of the nobles of our day, Cicero 
was lord of an ample fortune, and lived in style suited to 
his dignity. His residence in Rome was splendid, and 
throughout Italy he possessed the most delightful and mag- 
nificent villas. It is said that some writers enumerate 
eighteen houses in different parts of the country, all of 
which excepting the family seat at Arpinum, were purchased 
or built by himself. These he was wont to call the eyes of 
Italy.t 

The princely fortunes of the prominent Romans flowed 
chiefly from their governments and commands abroad, where 
the provinces were often made to feel the heaviest oppres- 
sion, and from bequests of clients, rather than from family 
inheritance, or from patient industry in any of the avoca- 
tions usual with us. With all his upright determination to 
save the province of Cilicia from unjust contribution, there 
was fairly due to Cicero at the expiration of the year, about 
one hundred and twenty thousand dollars of our money; 
and he had also at different periods of his life been made 
the heir to property valued at near a million. Hence, though 

* Cicero tells us that Cresar was careful in ascertaining his sayings: duintilian 
thought that it was easier to rind in them what might be rejected, than to add to 
them ; and Middleton further informs us, that his fame as a wit was as celebrated as 
that of his eloquence. 

tCur ocellas Italia?, villulas meas non video.— Ad. Mt. xvi. vi. Dr. Middleton, 
when speaking of the seat at Arpinum, indulges in the following uncalled for and 
illiberal indirect attack upon a church, which, whatever may have been the misrule 
of some of its pontifTs — by no learned and sensible Catholic denied — is nevertheless 
not more distinguished for its venerable antiquity and heart touching solemnities, 
than for its comprehensive and consoling faith, and has besides commanded the fer- 
vent homage of intellect quite as powerful and every way as well regulated as his 
own. We are slow to liken this learned divine to the almost perfect More, and 
sweetest Fenelon. "But there canuot," says the Doctor, "be a better proof of the 
delightfulness of the place than that it is now possessed by a convent of Monks and 
called the villa of St. Dominick. Strange revolution ! to see Cicero's porticos con- 
verted to monkish cloisters? the seat of the most refined reason, wit and learning, 
to a nursery of superstition, bigotry and enthusiasm ? What a pleasure must it give 
to these Dominican Inquisitors to trample on the ruins of a man whose writings, by 
spreading the light of reason and liberty through the world, have been one great in- 
strument of obstructing their unwearied pains to enslave it." 



192 SKETCH OF THE 

his paternal inheritance was moderate, and his obedience 
to the laws prohibiting professional rewards exemplary, we 
can feel no surprise at the extent and splendor of his do- 
mestic establishments. Besides, he was often enabled to 
exert his authority in behalf of foreign kings and states, 
from which it was usual, and with no dishonor, to accept of 
presents ; and it was not until the close of his life that he 
put away Terentia, from whom he had a large estate; all 
restored to that lady, however, at the time of the divorce. 

In his domestic duties and attachments, no man could be 
more exemplary. His children were the objects of his de- 
voted regard ; and it would seem that in the relation of 
master he was eminently kind ; sparing no effort to enlight- 
en the minds of his slaves when found worthy of his care, 
and in every way as far as was practicable, mitigating the 
hardship of their condition. We have before spoken of 
his attachment to Tiro, # and there were not wanting others 
of his slaves to share largely in his affection.! 

With regard to the rupture with his wives we incline to 
think that the fate of Terentia was not undeserved, and 
that the divorce of Publilia if justly charged, was not less 
so. The first soon sought, and with no little voracity, as 
we have seen, indemnity in marriage; and it is probable 
that with money and personal charms, the latter was not 
long without a like consolation ; if indeed a youthful 
beauty can be imagined to have required it, in separating 
from a distressed and sorrowing old man. 

It is scarce possible to conceive a warmer fraternal love 
than that of Cicero for Quintus; nor was his mischievous 
nephew without his regard ; and in both he was as untiring 
as their insolence and ingratitude were hateful. It is 
true that when Quintus endeavored to affect him injurious- 

*"Tiro was a favorite slave of Cicero, who trained him np in his family, and 
formed him under his own immediate tuition. The probity of his manners, the 
elegance of his genius, and his uncommon erudition, recommended him to bis mas- 
ter's peculiar esteem and affection. " — Melmoth. 

f "I have nothing more to write," says Cicero to Alticus, "and my mind indeed 
is somewhat ruffled at present, for Sothitheus, my reader, is dead, a hopeful youth, 
which has affected me more than one would imagine the death of a slave ought to 
do."— Jid. Atticum. i. xii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 193 

ly with Caesar, he saw with dismay how little was deserved 
esteem or tenderness; yet his perfidy, shocking as it was, 
made no enduring impression upon a mind, benevolent as 
gifted ; and we find this brother a short time after, the ob- 
ject of affection, and even bounty; whilst the interests of 
the nephew, though it was not possible to respect him, 
were repeatedly the objects of his care. 

On his friendship it is needless to enlarge. The work 
upon that subject, the letters to Atticus, and to others, are 
lasting memorials of its ardent and constant nature. His 
avowed warmth of attachment, nevertheless, to Brutus in 
the closing scenes of their lives, may be well questioned. 
It is not easy to love those who lavish reproach in tones 
so magnificent; and in this case we doubt not, the sting of 
rebuke was sharpened by its justice.* 

Of gratitude, as we before said, he speaks as the mother 
of the virtues. His indulgence of this feeling, however, if 
not overrated, was in the case of Pompey unchastened, 
undeserved, and in a very great degree pernicious to 
Rome, and therefore hurtful to his fame; prompting him 
to overlook the paramount claims of his country, and to 
prostitute his eloquence in promoting the power and wishes 
of a man whose object, to say the best of it, was not to be 
reconciled with the being, far less the safety, of a free 
state. In short, if not yielding in his concessions, prin- 
cipally to fear, which is believed to be the truth, he lavished 
in his practice of this high duty upon friendship what was 
emphatically due to his country; and either his irresolu- 
tion or heedless profusion of gratitude, was often not a 
whit less harmful than would have been positive treachery. 

* Mr- Guthrie has very handsomely depicted ancient friendships. "If there is any 
material difference," he says, "between human nature in that age and this, it lies 
in the conception of this virtue. The following pages evince that there was a 
time when friendship in the human breast could rise into a passion strong as their 
love and sacred as their religion, without the impurities which sometimes debased 
the one, and the superstition that always polluted the other. The friendship of 
our author for Atticus is full of nice suspicions and fond endearments. It has 
every characteristic of violent but virtuous passion. It breathes every tender 
grace that delights the mind, and awakens every soft emotion that affects the heart. 
The language of the most enamored poet to his mistress is faint, compared to the 
voice of Cicero's friendship for Atticus."— Preface to Trans. Lett, to Mticus. 

17 



194 SKETCH OF THE 



Gratitude if not occupying the high rank assigned to it ; 
by Cicero is undoubtedly among the most indispensable of 
duties. Assuming that he was in truth swayed by excess 
of it, in his unworthy subserviency to Pompey, it is but 
fair, when subjecting him to the just strictures of philoso- 
phy, that we allow him the full benefit of its concessions, 
if indeed the latter can be said to reach a case, where obe- j 
dience to a generous impulse actually compromised the | 
dearest rights and interests of a whole people. "Excess," | 
says an admired writer, u in the very name, implies culpa- 
bility even where the things in which it appears are of a l 
virtuous and laudable nature. So that whoever advances 
his virtues beyond the line of rectitude, errs no less than 
he who stops at an equal interval on this side of it ; yet at j 
the same time there is something far more noble and generous j 
in errors of excess than of defect."* 

Cicero was fond of partaking in the entertainments of | 
his friends, and clear of the moroseness too often accom- 
panying the great men of earth ; but as far as we can learn 
he appears, throughout life, to have shunned excess, as \ 
fatal not only to his good name and health, but to those ; 
hopes of glory, by which in all the stages of it, he was j 
perhaps too ardently animated. His unrestrained face- j 
tiousness on festive occasions, made him a frequent and i 
most welcome guest, and if the reader will recall the letter I 
describing the supper to Caesar, he may judge how emi- j 
nently such a man must have been qualified to shine at a I 
Roman table, where more than is usual with us, intellectual ' 
pleasures seasoned the repast. t 

There is a letter extant, from which we may infer his re- j 

* Knox's Christian Philosophy, 176. 
f De Senectute. cap. xiii. xiv. Cicero complains that on one occasion he had in- 
dulged his palate at some cost. 'For since,' he writes, 'our men of taste are grown | 
so fond of covering their tables with the productions of the earth wtrtebjire ex- j 
cepted by law, they have found a way of dressing mushrooms and all other vege- 
tables, so palatably, that nothing can be more delicious. I happened to fall upon 
these at Lentulus's augural supper, and was in consequence attacked so violently, j 
that it is now only that I begin to have ease. Thus I, who used to command my- 
self with oysters and lampreys, was caught with beets and mallows.' 

Ad Galium. Ep. Fam. vii. xxvi. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 195 

gard to the decencies of life ; though some may think that 
on the occasion of which he writes, the proper course 
would have been to leave the table. Invited to sup with 
the wit Volumnius, Cytheris, a courtezan, once the slave 
but then the mistress of his host, appeared at supper, and 
Cicero informs his friend " that he never suspected that 
she would have been of the party, and that though he was 
always fond of cheerful entertainments, yet nothing of that 
sort had ever pleased him when young, much less now he 
was old ; "Me vero nihil istorum me juvenem quidem movit un- 
quam, ne nunc senem." 

Though never permitting them to withdraw him from 
duties, which his post in the state, professional engage- 
ments, or habitual industry imposed, he not only gladly 
joined in these feasts of his friends, but partook freely of 
the variety of public amusements which Rome afforded, 
"Daignant cultiver" says Voltaire, '"I'amitie d'Esopus et de 
Roscius, allant au theatre, et laissant aux petits esprits, leur 
constante gravite, qui n'est que. la masque de la mediocrite. }> 

He appears to have been, in a signal degree, clear of 
the private vices polluting the age in which it was his sad 
destiny to live. No man could be more exempt from ava- 
rice, or a sterner enemy to mercenary natures; and whilst 
the great were too often covetous of the high dignities of 
Rome, with the sole and sordid view to the provincial com- 
mands they ensured, he, though he sought them with equal 
ardor, was altogether careless of accumulation, and prompt- 
ed by love of glory alone; the elevated passion for which 
more than any other he was distinguished, and which as 
we have said, was the pervading genius of his greatness; 
nor do we think that the severest scrutiny could expose 
him to the least well founded imputation of incontinence, the 
other leading vice of the day, though here he has been ar- 
raigned for enormities which would not have ranked obscure- 
ly in the revolting narratives of Tacitus, or yet more fright- 
ful orgies of De Sade. The reader will remember that his 
indulgence of one of nature's holiest affections had sub- 
jected him to a charge at which humanity shudders, and 



196 SKETCH OF THE 

howsoever ridiculous this and other calumny may have 
been, should feel no surprise that the foulest accusations, 
believed or not, would very readily be propagated in an age 
where abuse of the republican statesmen was in vogue at 
court, and where even to Cato, 

''Virgil paid one honest line."* 

We will now attempt, making Cicero himself the witness, 
to sustain the imputation of vanity, which, with the great 
majority of writers we have risked, maugre the contempt- 
uous attack of Middleton, upon the conceited pedants, as 
the doctor is pleased to name them, who have hazarded a 
similar charge. In the judgment of that learned and in- 
genious apologist, who was too often seduced by his admi- 
ration of the really glorious features in the character of his 
idol, the self-praise of the orator was not merely excusa- 
ble, but in many cases even necessary ; and Quintilian, 
who was also an enthusiast when speaking of Cicero, 
seems to have excused it on grounds of self defence. 
" The frequent commemoration of his acts," says the latter, 
" was not made so much for glory, as for defence ; to re- 
pel calumny, and vindicate his measures when they were 
attacked."! Happily however, for the pedants, there is a 
host of evidence, utterly unaffected by any of the reasons 
weighing with these writers, and they may therefore with 
perfect safety, concede all they contend for, short of yield- 
ing to their opinion, and still pronounce the Roman among 
the vainest of mankind. We cannot imagine how any 

* Pope. Ep. to Sat. Cicero was particularly intimate with Caerellia. Dion Cas- 
sius has attempted to build some scandal upon this fact, though he speaks of the 
lady as having reached at the time the imposing age of seventy; and as neither in 
his nor any other record that we have met, is she represented as in any thing re- 
sembling the modern wonders, Diane de Poictiers, beloved of a youthful king, 
Ninon and others, we are satisfied that the intimacy on one side at least was the 
result exclusively of congenial tastes in literature. There is some reason, how- 
ever, to think that Caerellia mistook her friend, and was so determined upon a 
marriage as to make it necessary to call in Atticus. 

■j At plerumque illud quoque non sine aliqua ratione fecit. Ut illorum quae egerat in 
consulatu frequens commemoratio possit videri non gloria? magis quam defensioni 
data— plerumque contra inimicos atque obtrectatores, plus vindicat sibi; erant enim 
tuenda cum objicerentur.— Qui/i^ xi. i. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 197 

man of sense, after a perusal of Cicero's works, abounding 
as they do in self-applause, absolutely nauseous, and equally 
spontaneous, can seriously doubt the vanity of their writer. 
Indeed, it is difficult to credit the sincerity of such doubt. 
These works show that he scarce slighted an occasion in 
blazoning his own renown : his eloquence and virtues are 
frequent themes, and in language the most inflated. But 
fortunately for us, whilst we readily rejoice in conceding 
the one, a neighboring page not seldom proves the total 
absence, or extraordinary character, of the other. 

In the celebrated letter to Lucceius, Cicero does not 
hesitate, after requesting him to write the story of his con- 
sulship, to press him, in the statement of his glories, to 
slight the truth. "If," says he, "you do not think the facts 
themselves worth the pains of adorning, you will yet allow 
so much to friendship, to affection, and even that favor, 
which you have so laudably disclaimed in your prefaces, as 
not to confine yourself scrupulously to the strict laws of 
history and the rules of truth."* Dr. Middleton attempts 
to sustain this extraordinary request, but seems to have 
been conscious that there was more than common need of 
defence, as he speedily abandons the consideration of its 
moral stain, and bespeaks attention to the elegant struc- 
ture of the letter, arguing too that the request was made 
upon an absurd or improbable supposition that Lucceius 
did not think the acts themselves worth praising. We will 
not stop to defend the inviolability of truth, and can only 
feel surprise that a very learned, and for aught we know, 
excellent man, should have allowed enthusiasm to have 
betrayed him into a defence, howsoever feeble, of inordi- 
nate vanity and contempt of the best of sanctions. 

That Cicero, in extolling his own actions, was often 
prompted solely by his vanity, and with no view to weaken 
a wrong, sustained or apprehended, is manifest, and upon 
high authority exclusive of his own.f It is said in Plutarch, 
that though his authority after his consulship, was at its 

*Ep.Fam. 12. 
f Plutarch. inCic. Ad. Att. xii. xxv. Orat. 325. Ep. Fam. ix. xiv. 

17* 



198 SKETCH OF THE 

height, and though all were charmed with his writings, his 
incessant boastings excited a general disgust ; that Cati- 
line and Lentulus were the constant burdens of his sono-; 
and that the "blemish stuck to him like an incurable dis- 
ease." Had he not been insatiate in his desire of honors, 
he could not at this time have failed to be satisfied ; for his 
own proud expressions* teach us how profusely they were 
bestowed ; and with never sleeping fidelity we are remind- 
ed of them by his eulogist. Where then in the height of 
his influence was the need of self-applause, admitting that 
in any case it is defensible ? The sense of his public vir- 
tues did not spring from his own undying determination to 
blazon them, but from their saving effects; and he ought 
to have known, as we doubt not he did know, that so far 
from preserving his authority, nothing could more effec- 
tually shake it, or was more thoroughly calculated to en- 
gender, as it did engender, contempt and disgust.f Dr. 
Middleton is, however, no friend to the testimony of Plu- 
tarch, when adverse to the fame of Cicero, though when 
suited to his purposes he is any thing but abstemious in the 
use of it. 

No man was more wise then Cicero, in his judgment of 
the means to mitigate or soften envy, arising from the pos- 
session of high dignity and power; and had he kept with- 
in the limit of his own admirable precepts, much of the 
stain we now regret might have been avoided. In his 
second Book de Oratore, "when you want," he says, "to 
allay envy, you are to say that such honors were acquired 
through much toil and many dangers, and that they have 
not been applied to the possessor's private advantage, but 



* Me Q.. Catulus princeps hujus ordinis, parentem patriae nominavit; L. Gellius, 
his audientibus, civicam coronam debere a republica dixit. — In Piso. 3. 

■f Those who proclaim their own actions are- thought not so much to do so because 
they performed them, as to have done them that they might proclaim them. So 
that which would have appeared great if told by another, is lost when related by 
the party himself; for when men cannot deny the fact, they reflect upon the \am- 
ty ot the author. Wherefore, if any thing is done not worthy to be mentioned, 
the action itself is blamed, and on the other hand, if it be really commendable, 
you are not the less blamed for mentioning it.— Pliny. L. v. Ep. xii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 199 

to that of others; and that if he has seemed to have ac- 
quired any glory, yet so self denying was he, that though 
he had justly earned it by his dangers, it was so far from 
giving him pleasure, that he undervalued and set it all aside; 
and we must by all means endeavor to beat down all reflec- 
tions upon his greatness, and to work upon our speech, so 
as that the distinction of his fortune should still be mingled 
with the reflection upon his toils and hardships. The rea- 
son of this is because the world is apt to envy ; it is the 
reicrninff, the standing vice, and feeds on exalted and 
flourishing fortune. Compassion is moved, if the hearer 
can be tempted to apply to his own case the afflicting cir- 
cumstances that are deplored in another's, whether they are 
already passed or dreaded, or by looking upon another, 
frequently to turn his eye into his own breast." 

We cannot but suppose that the letters which in part we 
shall present, must have somewhat shaken Middleton's de- 
termination to screen his favorite from the charge we have 
in hand. "I have sent you," says Cicero to Atticus, "my 
treatise on glory. You will, therefore, bestow upon it the 
care which you usually do upon my productions. But let 
the exceptionable passages be marked, and when you have 
in company suitable auditors, Servius may read them, but 
only when they are exhilirated with wine. I am greatly de- 
lighted with it myself, and I rather wish you were so. 
Farewell."* 

In another letter he exclaims: "Why my friend are you 
so much alarmed at my making you answerable for the re- 
ception of my books from Varro. If you have any difl> 

* Ad. Att. xvi. ii. "The treatise on glory was divided into two books, and a copy 
of it was in being after the art of printing was discovered. Petrarch received it as 
a present from Reymundus Superiantius, and unfortunately lent it to his schoolmas- 
ter who put it into pawn to relieve his necessities, but died before he could take it 
out, and thus Petrarch never could hear of it. About two hundred years after, it 
was in the possession ofBernardus Justinianus who bequeathed it to a monastery of 
nuns from whence it could never be recovered. The conjecture of learned men is 
that Petrus Alcyonius, the physician to that nunnery, had purloined it, and trans- 
ferred what he thought proper into his own writings, which the critics observe to 
be of very unequal composition, especially his Book de Exiiio. If this conjecture 
be true, it is natural to suppose that Alcyonius deslroyc;! the original to prevent 
the discovery.— Guthrie 3. 315. 



200 SKETCH OF THE 

culties even now, let me know them ? Sure nothing can be 
more elegant." The original here is, "Nihil est illis elegan- 
tius, Guthrie has literally translated it, and would have 
been rejoiced to relieve Cicero from the stain of so gross a 
vanity, though he thinks an attempt of that kind some- 
what desperate. The Frenchman, Mongault, has no ques- 
tion that the writer meant to extol his own work, and 
accordingly translates the passage "II n'y a Hen de mieux 
ecrit que ce lime. There is, it is true, in the after part of 
the letter an allusion to the uncommon elegance, in the 
binding, the writing, and the like, of the dedicated copy; 
and it would certainly be grateful, could we imagine that 
the exceptionable passage, had the least relation to the ex- 
ternal beauty of the volume ; but it is folly to believe that 
Cicero deemed so meanly of the learned Varro, as to 
have for a moment supposed that he could be swayed 
in his judgment of the work, because of its attractive 
dress. Besides, the letter itself, discountenances any 
such belief; though it does clearly show, that in the judg- 
ment of the author, the compliment to his friend, was not 
without a grace, in the outward beauty of the book.* 

Speaking of pathos, which he calls the sceptre of elo- 
quence, "I myself," says Cicero, "have possessed a tolera- 
ble share of this, or it may be a trifling one; but as I 
always spoke with uncommon warmth and impetuosity, I 
have frequently forced my antagonists to relinquish the 
field. Hortensius, an eminent speaker, once declined to 
answer me, though in defence of an intimate friend. Cati- 
line, a most audacious traitor, being publicly accused by 
me in the senate house, was struck dumb with shame, and 
Curio, the father, when he attempted to reply to me in a 
weighty and important cause which concerned the honor of 
his family, sat suddenly down and said that I had bewitched 
him out of his memory: no very flattering compliment this lat- 

* Varro was a senator of the first distinction both for his birth and merit, Cicero's 
intimate friend, and esteemed the most learned man in Rome. He had served with 
Pompey in Spain, but after the defeat of Afranius and Petreias, quitted his arms 
and retired to his studies. Of the five hundred volumes written by Varro, all are 
lost except the treatises de Re Rustica, and de Lingua Latina. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 201 

ter, if he were the same Curio, which we doubt not, who 
according to Cicero himself, was deficient to a miracle in 
this faculty."* 

It would be most easy to produce abundant proof, other 
than that which we have presented, of this great man's 
weakness, and without recourse to the constant displays of 
it in his magnificent public efforts; but to say the truth, 
it is with unaffected pain that we speak at all of a foible, 
we would have gladly overlooked ; and should not have 
failed in a great degree to do so, had not an author of great 
learning and reputation, very generally read and recom- 
mended, with no evidence whatever, and in the teeth of the 
strongest, contemptuously denied it. The pedants, how- 
ever, may find some consolation, can they allow it to be 
such, in the fact that their assailant was encumbered with 
but few rivals in his opinion. The truth is, that the vain 
glory of Cicero was a blemish which many of the best and 
wisest, unless swayed by an admiration it is far from easy 
to condemn, have at all times conceded, reproved and de- 
plored.! 

But whilst we believe that the vanity of Cicero will not 
admit of question, and will be betrayed by no admiration 
of his parts, into its approval, it is very certain that the foi- 
ble, great as it was, found the utmost palliation in his tran- 
scendant eloquence and learning; and it is the more diffi- 
cult to censure it in his case, venial as at the worst it is, if 
we reflect at all upon the multitude of other and powerful 
sources of the defect. As of the Italian, Pietro Aretino, 



*Brut. 46. 
fit is remarkable that one very wise man, Dr. Franklin, should not merely have 
respected vanity wherever he met with it, but have ranked it among the other 
sweets of life, and regarded the person indulging it, as authorized in many cases 
to thank God for it as a blessing. Does not the Doctor, however, ascribe to vanity, 
results more justly due to well regulated love of praise, or rather does he not con- 
found them? "The generality of men," he writes in his memoirs, "hate vanity 
in others, however strongly they may be tinctured with it themselves; for myself 
I pay obeisance to it wherever I meet with it, persuaded that it is advantageous, as 
well to the individual whom it governs, as to those who are within the sphere of 
its influence. Of consequence, it would in many cases, not be wholly absurd, that 
a man should count his vanity among the other sweets of life, and give thanks to 
Providence for the blessing." 



202 SKETCH OF THE 

whose weakness was the same, it may be said of Cicero, 
that "the emulation of the greatest was excited for his fa- 
vor: his levee resembled that of a mighty monarch, and his 
friendship was sought by the great in power, the powerful 
in wealth, and the glorious in fame." To this, if we add 
the proud titles he had won, there is scarce less folly in 
dealing too harshly with his fame, because. of this infirmity, 
than there is error in all attempt to disguise it. Besides, 
though vain himself, no one was more clear of envy or more 
eminently distinguished for that liberality which should ever 
go along with, and perhaps does generally accompany ex- 
alted powers. Plutarch is warm in extolling this bright 
quality of the Roman ; and tells us that "howsoever insa- 
tiate was his desire of honor, he was never unwilling that 
others should have their share, and that he was most libe- 
ral in his works, not only to the ancients, but to those of 
his own time." It is impossible to escape this conclusion 
on a perusal of his books, and delightful to recal the multi- 
tude of examples they disclose of tribute to genius no less 
enlightened than magnanimous. "Let us then," says he, 
"imitate Demosthenes? Good gods! to what else are all 
my endeavors and wishes directed. But it is perhaps my 
misfortune not to succeed."* Nor was he more just to the 
immortal Greek, than to his own immediate and illustrious 
rival. It is true that when in exile, his suspicions had 
wronged the friendship of the latter; but in nothing more 
commendable than placability,! all his resentments vanished 
at his return ; the harmony of their intercourse was com- 
pletely re-established : and when Hortensius died, the loss 
was bitterly deplored as no less important to Rome than to 
himself. 

Having, as we think, established the charge of vainglory, 
in opposition to a writer whom we should have been reluc- 
tant to encounter, unless sustained by unanswerable evi- 

*Demosthenem igitur iraiteraur. O Dii boni quid quasi nos aliud ageraus aut quid 
aliud optamus.— Brut. 417. 

t Nihil enira laudabilius, nihil magno viro dignius placabilitate et dementia — De 
Offic. 1. 25. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 203 

dence, we come now in an enumeration of Cicero's splen- 
did productions, to show to the reader the rich soil in which 
this foible found nourishment; and here we shall implicitly 
consult the order of Dr. Middleton, as we are satisfied of 
his perfect accuracy in this particular. 

Plutarch, when speaking of the orator's early thirst of uni- 
versal knowledge, informs us that in his youth he inclined 
most strongly to poetry, and that in the judgment of his con- 
temporaries, he was as eminent in that enchanting art as in 
the one in which his mastery is admitted. This writer adds, 
that a small poem called Pontius Glaucus, in tetrameter 
verse, was the first effort of his muse : and that the poem 
was extant in his day. Glaucus was a fisherman, and hav- 
ing eaten a certain herb, leaped into the sea, and became a 
god of it. One, not a poet, might imagine that these facts 
were no very fertile sources of inspiration; yet they seem 
to have also furnished an argument to one of the tragedies 
of an early Greek.* Cicero also translated the Phenomena 
of Aratus,t into Latin verse, of which some fragments re- 
main, and wrote a poem in honor of Marius, to which we 
have before referred, as also to the mistaken prophecy of 
Scsevola in its behalf. There was another poem called Li- 
mon, four lines of which Dr. Middleton tells us are pre- 
served by Donatus ;| but the Doctor's account of its argu- 
ment is altogether conjectural. 



*^Eschylns. 

f'Aratus was a Greek poet, bom at Soli, a town of Cilicia, and lived in the reisrn 
of Ptolemy Pliiiadelphus, king of Egypt ; lie was in principles a Sloick, and acted as 
physician to the son of Poliorcetes, king of aiacedon. His "Phenomena," which is 
still extant, entitles him to the name of astrologer as well as poet. In this piece he 
describes the nature and motion of the stars, and the particular influences of the 
heavenly bodies with their various dispositions and relations. Others have trans* 
lated this work'. Germanicus Caesar did so ; and there is a translation in ele- 
gant verse by Festus Avienus. Grotius, in the year 1650, published an edition of it 
with Cicero's fragments, &c. &c. Aratus wrote many other works, and was imi- 
tated, or rather translated in many passages of the Georgics ; and the Apostle of the 
Gentiles quotes one of his sentences in a speech to the Athenians : telling them that 
some of their own poets have said, Ta yap ko.l ytvoq eapsv. "For we are also his oif 
' spring."— Acts, xvii. xxviii. These words begin the fifth line of the Phenomena." 

J Donatus iElius was a grammarian, who flourished at Home in the fourth century. 
He wasone of St. Jerome's masters, and wrote commentaries on Terence and Virgil, 
which are said to be in ureal esteem. 



204 SKETCH OF THE 

It appears from the celebrated invective against Piso, that 
Cicero saw occasion to defend his verses; not, however, 
in that case for want of harmony, but to repel a charge of 
vanity, to which they had often subjected him. It was 
thought that in the lines "Cedant arma toga, concedat laarea 
lingua," &c. he had been sufficiently complacent in esti- 
mating his own glories to the prejudice of others; and it 
was upon this ground that Piso attacked him, as having 
provoked by his poetry the exile he suffered. But whether 
his reputation as a poet were eminent or otherwise in his 
own day, it is certain that in ours the verdict is far from flat- 
tering ; and though this may have arisen from a disposition 
admitted to prevail, to deny, if possible, to one man excel- 
lence in more than one department, rather than from real 
homage to the adverse opinion of Juvenal and others, it is 
equally clear that the name of Cicero is now never asso- 
ciated with that of the favored votaries of the Muse.* There 
can be no doubt, at ail events, of his ardent love of poesy, 
and perhaps he was to no poor extent imbued with its 
spirit,vhowsoever defective he may have been in the melody 
of his numbers ; and his learned historian has well and fully 
shown his constant and generous patronage of all the cele- 
brated bards of his time. Accius, Archias, Lucretius, Chilias 
and Catullus, shared at once his admiration! and his kind- 

*Mr. Molyneux, a great mathematician and philosopher, had a high opinion of Sir 
Richard Blackmore's poetic vein. "All our English poets," except Milton, says he 
in a letter to Mr. Locke, "have been mere ballad makers in comparison with him," 
and Mr. Locke replies, "1 find with pleasure a strange harmony between your 
thoughts and mine." Just so a Roman lawyer and Greek historian thought of the 
poetry of Cicero. But these judgments of men out of their own profession, are little 
regarded ; and Pope and Juvenal will make Blackmore and Tully pass for poetasters 
to the world's end. — JVote to Pope's works, 4. Ivii. 

fAdjicis M. Tullium mira benignitate poetarum ingenia fovisse.-PZm.2Tp. 3. 15. 
Lit ex familiari ejus L. Accio poeta audire sum solitus.— Brut. 197. Lucretii poem- 
ata ut scribis, lita sunt multis luminibus ingenii,et multee tamen artis. — Ad. Quint. 2. 
xi. Vide Ad. Atticum. 1. 9. 16. In that part of Middleton's learned work from which 
these references are taken, appear the following lines of Catullus, who would seem 
to have thought of Cicero, much as the latter professed to think of Pompey — that it 
would be vain to hope, in the long march of time, for any thing so perfect. 

" Tully, most eloquent by far, 
Of all who have been, or who are, 
Or who in ages still to come, 
Shall rise of all the sons of Rome,—" 



LIFE OF CICERO. 205 

ness; and indeed he was not only nobly clear, as we have 
seen, of the unworthy feelings too often disgracing rival- 
ship in letters, but in no case with more perfect justice 
than in his, may we apply that elegant sentiment of a Scotch 
Reviewer, "Beautiful is the union of wealth with favor and 
furtherance for literature, like the costliest flower jar encloS' 
ing the loveliest amaranth" 

The rhetorical pieces supposed to be those which remain 
on the subject of invention, were written before his admis- 
sion to the bar; but are afterwards spoken of as scarcely 
creditable even as productions of early youth.* After his 
consulship, his labors as an author were renewed, and at 
that time he finished in the Greek language a commentary 
or memoir of its transactions ; and desired Atticus, should 
he approve of it, to publish it in Athens and the other cities 
of Greece. Of this work, which met the most flattering 
reception abroad, and of which he had himself the highest 
opinion, we have to lament the loss. It was upon the plan 
of this memoir that the Latin poem continuing the history 
to the end of his exile, lost, with the exception of a few 
fragments, was written ; and it was now that his consular 
orations were collected. There were twelve in number, 
and four of them are lost ; the third, fifth and sixth, with 
one of the short ones ; and some of the rest left maimed 
and imperfect.! The next piece was the Complete Orator, 
sent to Atticus, comprehending all that the ancients, and 
especially Aristotle and Isocrates had taught upon that sub- 
ject. About this time a treatise on politics, still remaining 
in some fragments, and among them the dream of Scipio, 
was also prepared, and two years after, a treatise on laws. 
This latter, designed as a supplement to the other, was pro- 

" To thee Catullus grateful sends 
His warmest thanks, and recommends 
His humble muse, as much below 
All other poets he, as thou 
All other patrons dost excel 
In power of words and speaking well." — Catull. 47. 

*Orat. 1. 2. Quintil. xiii. vi. 

t Middleton. 

18 



206 SKETCH OF THE 

bably in six books, though but three, and those imperfect, 
now remain.* 

His efforts in authorship were then suspended until after 
the fall of Pompey, when temporarily absent from the se- 
nate, and realising, as we may suppose, the truth of that 
eloquent tribute to letters, in his own admirable speech for 
Archias. "Such," he there observes, "was the divine Afri- 
canus, known to past ages, such the amiable Laelius, and 
the temperate Furius, and such known to this age was Mar- 
cus Cato, that brave Roman and learned old man. All these 
never had applied to learning, but from a consciousness 
that their innate virtue was improved and enlightened by 
study. But were pleasure without utility, the sole end of 
study, yet must you own it to be the most generous, the 
most humane exercise of the rational faculties. For other 
exercises are neither proper for all times, all ages or places; 
but these studies employ us in youth ; in prosperity they 
grace and embellish ; in adversity they shelter and support; 
delightful at home and easy abroad they soften slumber, 
shorten fatigue and enliven retirement. Though I my- 
self had been incapable of them and had no relish for 
their charms, yet must they have been the object of admi- 
ration, even when I see them in others."! Could Cicero 
have taught any thing more true ? Piety to God apart, to 
what source, in adverse fortune, can we so assuredly look 
for solace as to literature? If with faculties to appreciate 
them, we have books at command, it needs far more than 
the ordinary ills of life utterly to take away their power to 

*Middleton. 2. 92. 96. 166. 
fEx hoc esse liunc numero, quem patres nostri viderunt, divinum horomem -Afri- 
canum ; ex hoc C. LEel'mm, L. Furium, modestissimos homines et continentissiinos ; 
ex hoc fortissimum viram, et illis temporibus doctissimum, M Calonem illuin se- 
nem, &c. &c. Nam cstera, neque temporum sunt, neque statum omnium, neque 
locorum: at haec studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res or- 
nant, adversis perfugium ac solatium praebant ; delectant domi, non impediunt foris ; 
pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur. Quod si ipsi haec neque atthigere, 
neque sensu nostro gustare possemus, tamen ea mirari deberemus, etiam cum in aliis 
vide remus. — Pro Archia. vii. This speech, as is well known, was made to sustain 
the poet's claim to citizenship ; but is to be admired rather as a panegyric than as an 
argument The orator elsewhere takes occasion to extol the use and beauty of learn- 
ing, and does so emphatically in his Offices, the book De Senectute, and in his re- 
peated earnest exhortations to philosophy. 



LIFE OF CICERO. '. 207 

soothe; and perhaps this property, next to the aid they 
afford in the acquisition and improvement of virtue, imparts 
the highest value to the renown they sometimes confer. 

Here Cicero prepared for the use of his son theOratorial 
Partitions, or the art of ordering and distributing the parts 
of an oration, which is lost; and now it was that he wrote 
one of his most entertaining treatises, "De Claris Oratori- 
bus," addressed to Brutus. It is in the form of a dialogue, 
where Brutus, Atticus and he are the speakers, whilst seated 
in his gardens near a statue of Plato.* This was intended 
as a fourth book to the three composing the "Complete 
Orator," already mentioned, and not long after, a fifth called 
"The Orator," was prepared at the request of Brutus.t It 
is, to use his own language, scarcely possible to imagine 
any thing more elegant than some of these treatises ; and 
from those which we have just noticed, very much is learned 
of his private history. He had before written a book in 
praise of Cato, which was answered by Cassar, and not long 
after finished a work named "Hortensius," in honor of that 
friend. This is now lost ; but it appears to have been read 
by St. Austin, who, as Middleton informs us, was inflamed 
by it to the study of the Christian Philosophy; a fruit in 
itself, the Doctor thinks, an ample trophy ; though one 
would hardly recognize the holy man so extolled on this 
occasion in the St. Austin of the work upon Miracles ; 
sharing so largely as he there does with contemporary and 
earlier saints, in not the gentlest charge of credulity, false- 
hood and imposture. :}: 

"The Defence of the Philosophy of the Academy," in 
four books, a part of only the first of which remains, was 
about this time prepared and addressed to Yarro. He had 
before written upon this subject two books named "Catulus 
and Lucullus," and though desirous to suppress them, as 
having been embraced in the work dedicated to Varro, the 
latter under its original name still remains entire. A most 

•Cum iaem placuisset illis, turn inpratulo, propter Platonis statuam consedimus. 

| Middleton. 
$ MiddSeton's Cic. 2. 399. Ibid. Inquiry. Rlirac. Pow. 82. '3. 109. 29. 37. et seq. 



208 SKETCH OF THE 

esteemed work was also in this year produced. It was a 
treatise, "De Finibus:" or of the chief good and ill of man, 
written in Aristotle's manner, and treats of what is the 
chief end to which all the views of life ought to be referred 
in order to make it happy, or what it is which nature pur- 
sues as the supreme good, and shuns as the worst of ills,"* 
and is in five books, addressed to Brutus. Next followed 
the "Tusculan Disputations" upon different questions in 
philosophy. They consist of five dialogues, which actually 
took place at the villa whence they have their name.t A 
funeral oration in honor of a sister of Cato, was composed 
this year, but is lost to us. Treatises upon "The Nature of 
the Gods," containing the opinions of all the philosophers 
who had ever written upon that subject, and on "Divina- 
tion:" or the foreknowledge and prediction of events, 
both still remaining, were in the following year prepared, 
and were soon followed by others on "Old Age," "Fate 
and Friendship," and a translation of Plato's famous dia- 
logue called "Timseus on the Nature and Origin of the 
Universe."! 

Cicero was likewise at this period employed on what he 
called his "Anecdote," which was a history of his own 
time, or rather of his conduct, and is lost, with the excep- 
tion of some particulars quoted by Asconius.§ It is per- 
haps unfortunate for his good name that this production did 
not survive; as with the adverse testimony derived from 
other sources, it demands, as we think, even more prevail- 
ing eloquence than his own, to relieve him from censure, 
impairing in no slight degree the lustre of his actions; and 
this "Anecdote," if not successful, might have disclosed 
grounds of palliation now looked for in vain. Finally, he 
completed his Book of Offices, designed for the guidance of 
his son, the treatise on "Glory," of the singular fate of 
which we have already spoken, a treatise on "Topics," and 
the "Stoical Paradoxes," illustrating the doctrines of the 
Stoicks. 

*Middleton. De Fin. 1.4.- flbid. Tusc. Quaest, 1.4. Ibid, 2. 3.3. a. 
t Middleton. 3. 55. 7. 8. $Ibid. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 209 

An allusion to his letters is here appropriate. Their 
style is much and justly commended, and as his biographer 
observes, the importance of their matter, and the dignity of 
the persons concerned in them, cannot fail to enhance their 
attraction. Here again, however, with more than usual 
justice, it is true, that author gives the rein to enthusiasm, 
and describes their excellence as in all its kinds surpassing 
if not unapproachable. Their writer seems to have taken 
no pains to preserve them ; and we cannot but think that 
the utter loss of them would have been of highest value to 
his fame. Indeed Guthrie, if we recollect aright, thought 
it doubtful whether Middleton would have ever published 
his partial work, had he supposed that any one would have 
undertaken the translation of the epistles to Atticus.* 

Upon Cicero's claims as a writer, we forbear to expatiate. 
Were our judgment, in this respect, as it surely is not, at 
variance with that of the world at large, the glorious testi- 
mony of ages and conscious want of skill as critics would 
admonish us to be silent. 

In the just and beautiful "Discourse on the Life and 
Character of William Wirt," it is said in reference to the 
evanescent nature of forensic fame, that "the triumphs of 
the speaker's eloquence, vivid, brilliant and splendid as they 
are, live but in the history of their uncertain effects, and in 
the intoxicating applause of the day ; that to incredulous 
posterity they are a distrusted tradition, the extravagant 
boasting of an elder age, prone by its nature to disparage 
the present by the narrated glories of the past; that not all 
his affectionate biographer's learned zeal could rescue Pat- 
rick Henry from the unbelieving smile of but a second ge- 
neration ; and that the glory of Cicero lives more conspicu- 
ously in his written philoshphy, than even in his speeches, aU 
though transmitted by his own elaborate and polished hand."i 

That Cicero derives his most certain and valuable fame 
from this source, is indisputably true ; yet we venture the 
opinion, and it may be, our accomplished friend will agree 
with us, that had no one of his magnificent thoughts sur- 

* Vid. Guthrie. Pref. to Trans. Ep. to Att. f Kennedy's Dis. 47. 

18* 



210 SKETCH OF THE 

vived, still must his renown have been real and enduring. 
It was indeed his high fortune to win immortal glory through 
more than one excellency ; and perhaps forensic fame, 
passing as in general it is, so just, so signally attested 
is it in his case, would have alone secured it. Of his elo- 
quence not forensic, the everlasting monuments of kindred 
genius present yet higher proof, and will not permit the 
unbelieving smile. Quintilian, Pliny, Plutarch and others, 
did not invent the facts, that the proscribed surrendered 
their dearest rights, and that popular pleasures and agra- 
rian laws lost for a time their charms ; nor can well founded 
doubt exist that here were really seen trophies of transcend- 
ent eloquence. 

There was one and a most grave charge to which Cicero 
was exposed, and here indeed the evidence is not as meagre 
as could be wished. The charge was that his adherence 
to the truth was not inflexible, and that to promote his 
interests, or indulge his vanity, this high sanction was often 
disregarded. We will present to the reader, who may form 
his own judgment, several incidents in the life of this elo- 
quent man, where the vice we speak of was thought to 
have been displayed. It was, as we have seen, usual at 
that time to serve professionally without reward. He had 
on one occasion borrowed a very large sum from a client 
with a view to the purchase of a house. Both the loan 
and contemplated purchase, were seriously and flatly de- 
nied, and when the latter was in fact made, he attempted in 
the senate, where he was taxed with his duplicity, to laugh 
away the matter, and told them that they must know little 
of the world indeed, if they could imagine that any prudent 
man would raise the price of a commodity by publicly avow- 
ing his intention to buy. Dr. Middleton seems inclined to 
connect this affair with the spurious collections of the ora- 
tor's jests. There can however be no question as to the 
judgment of the moralist, lightly as the wary merchant may 
deem of such craft.* 

* Cicero, in the third book De Officiis, has written at large upon such matters ; but it 
would be impossible to bring his conduct on the occasion referred to, within the 
scope of any one of his piecepts, except to its utter condemnation. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 211 

Again, when in exile, a speech which he had long before 
prepared, but which he had attempted to suppress, by some 
untoward means got abroad. It was calculated to retard 
his recall, and he does not hesitate to press Atticus to deny 
his authorship, which he thinks he may do with safety, as 
the speech in question had not undergone the revision and 
polish which it was his custom to bestow upon his produc- 
tions.* In another of his letters he speaks with great in- 
difference of denying that he had given freedom to a slave 
whom he had in fact emancipated, but whose conduct had 
afterwards displeased him ; and it was a custom with him 
in his recommendatory letters, to affix a private mark, by 
which his correspondent was to judge how far he really 
meant to ask his friendship for the person presenting it. If 
this practice were general, which is indeed denied,! it robs 
his letters of this kind of a charm which otherwise eminently 
belongs to them ; we mean the earnest and most amiable 
desire they evince to promote the views of all claiming his 
concern and influence. 

Again, it cannot be denied that before his determination 
to go into exile, he had hesitated as to arming himself to 
prevent it ; and it is certain that in his letters to Atticus and 
Terentia, when abroad, he reproachfully condemns his want 
of firmness in having forborne to do so; and yet as the 
reader is informed, he boasted on his return that he was 
governed in his withdrawal solely by a desire to save his 
country from the calamities which must have followed upon 
resistance. 

"Te te patria testor," he exclaims, "penates patriique dii 
me vestrarum sedum templorumque causa, me propter salu- 
tem meorum civium, quae mihi fuit semper mea carior 
vita, dimicationem csedemque fugisse." And in the speech 



*Percussisti me de oratione prolata ; cui vulnere ut scribis medere, si quid potes. 
Scripsi equidem olirn ei, iratus quod ille prior scripserat. Sed ita compresseram, ut 
nunquam manaturam putarem. Quo modo exciderat nescio. Sed quia nunquam 
accidit ut cum eo verbo uno concertarem, et quia scripta mihi videtur negligentius 
quam esters, puto esse probari non esse meam. Id si putas me posse sanari, cures 
velim •, sin, plane perii minus Jabori.— Ad. Att. 3. xii. 
fMiddleton. 



212 SKETCH OF THE 

against Piso : "Alios ego vidi ventos, alias prospexi animo 
procellasj aliis impendentibus tempestatibus non cessi, sed 
his unum me pro omnium salute obtuli." In a letter to At- 
ticus, however, notwithstanding this all absorbing love of 
country, he had not scrupled to implore him, should he 
think it essential to his restoration, to raise the mob in his 
favor: "Oro te si spes erit posse studiis bonorum auctori- 
tate, multitudinem comparata, rem confeci des operam, et 
uno impetu perfungatur." 

Finally, others of his letters, in a scarce less degree than 
those to Lucceius Caesar and Antony, which have been pre- 
sented, show conclusively that he was not uncompromising 
in his attachment to the truth. 

It has been said, since Dr. Middleton wrote, that there 
were few of the very celebrated men of antiquity whose 
characters are more open to discovery, than that of Cicero. 
Be this as it may, it would be difficult, if possible, to im- 
part any thing of novelty to speculation upon his preten- 
sions in oratory. We will therefore only say that in this 
particular we join that author and Quintilian in their most 
ardent praise. It may perhaps be proper, however, to lay 
before the reader the famous parallel of the Latin writer. 
It is not more familiar than imposing; and should in our 
judgment, have long since, in favor of the Roman, deter- 
mined all question as to Quintilian's preference. 

"Demosthenes is said to be more compacted, Cicero more 
copious; the one hems you close in; the other fights at 
weapon's length; the one studies still, as it were, to pierce 
by the keenness; the other to bear you down by the weight 
and fulness of his discourse. In the one there is nothing 
that can be curtailed ; in the other nothing that can be 
added ; the one owes more to application, the other to ge- 
nius. But in the witty and the pathetic, which so strongly 
sway the affections, the Roman excels. But Cicero must 
in one thing yield to Demosthenes who lived before him, and 
formed great part of the Roman excellency ; for to me it 
appears that Cicero, applying himself entirely to the imita- 
tion of the Greeks, united in this manner the force of De- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 2L3 

mosthenes, the copiousness of Plato and the sweetness of 
Isocrates. Not only did he extract what was excellent in 
these, but by the divine pregnancy of his own immortal ge- 
nius, he found the means to produce out of himself most, 
or rather all, their characteristical beauties. For, to use an 
expression of Pindar, he does not fertilize his genius by 
making a collection of the waters that fall in rain from the 
clouds ; but formed by the kind indulgence of Providence, 
he pours along in a resistless flood, that eloquence may 
make an experiment of all her powers in his person ; for 
who can teach more instructively ? or who can move more 
strongly ? Did ever man possess such sweetness as to make 
you believe that you resign with willingness what he wrests 
by force ; and though the judge is borne down by his power, 
yet he feels not he is forced along, but that he follows with 
pleasure. Nay, such is the commanding character of all he 
says, that you are ashamed to differ with his sentiments. 
He is not distinguished by the zeal of a counsel, but brings 
the conviction of whatever a witness or judge can say. Yet 
in the mean time all those excellencies of intense applica- 
tion, appear in him the easy flow of nature ; and his elo- 
quence though exquisitely and beautifully finished, appears 
to be but the happy turn of genius. It was therefore not 
without reason that with his contemporaries he was said to 
be the sovereign of the bar, but with posterity his reputa- 
tion rose so high, that the name of Cicero appears not now 
to be the name of a man, but of eloquence herself. Let us, 
therefore, keep him in our eye, let him be our model ; and 
let the man who has a strong passion for Cicero, know that 
he has made a progress in study."* 

As to the philosophical opinions of the orator, there can 
be no difficulty, though writers have not agreed in their 
efforts to ascertain his views upon the great points of re- 
ligion. He was a disciple of the new Academy. The 
Academicks, as is known, derived their name from a grove 
near Athens, which had been consecrated to the memory 
of Academus, an Athenian hero. 

* Quint. Inst. x.l. 



214 SKETCH OF THE 

This grove was the scene of their lectures and disputa- 
tions, and hence also the philosophy they taught was styled 
academical. The founder of this sect was Socrates, whose 
distinguishing character was that of a moral philosopher, 
and who as we may learn from Cicero, was the first to ban- 
ish physics out of philosophy, which had before been di- 
rected to dark inquiries into nature and the structure of the 
universe, but was by him made subservient to virtue, incul- 
cating the dangers of vice, and the natural difference of 
good and ill. The Socratic mode of searching after truth, 
was to affirm nothing, and examine every thing ; and the 
disciples of this sect of Academicks were satisfied with 
probability, as all that a rational mind had to acquiesce in. # 

In the school of Plato, who succeeded Socrates, the mo- 
desty of affirming was abandoned, and a regular system of 
opinions was formed, and delivered to his disciples as the 
peculiar discipline and tenets of the sect.t This mode 
continued for a long time afterwards until the Socratic doc- 
trine was revived by Arcesilas, who taught that there was 
no certain knowledge of any thing in nature; nor any in- 
fallible criterion of truth and falsehood ; that there was 
nothing so detestable as rashness, nothing so scandalous to 
a philosopher as to profess what was either false or un- 
known to him ; that we ought to assert nothing dogmati- 
cally, but in all cases to suspend our assent, and instead of 
pretending to certainty, content ourselves with opinion 
grounded on probability.''^ This last, to which Cicero was 
attached, was called the new Academy, to distinguish it 
from the Platonick or old. 

Some have thought that Arcesilas was the founder of 
what they call the middle Academy; but we have no doubt 
that Middleton is right in rejecting this intervening school 
altogether. The distinction finds no countenance in any 
part of Cicero's works; and it is not probable had it exist- 
ed, that he would have been silent when treating largely as 

* Tusc. Quajs. 5. 4, Middleton. t Academ. 1.4. lb. 

Jib. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 215 

he has, of the philosophy of the schools ; and indeed he 
expressly speaks in his treatise on the Nature of the Gods, 
of the new Academy, as subsisting with that name down to 
his own time, as well under Carneades as Arcesilas.* 

He had in the earlier part of his life adhered to the old 
or Platonick school, and it was not until advanced in age, 
that he became a disciple of the new. Dr. Middleton, 
after collecting from his writings some of the reasons which 
prompted him to the change, tells us he had another pow- 
erful motive in the peculiar fitness of the new school to his 
profession, as an orator, since by its l< practice of disput- 
ing for and against every opinion of the other sects, it gave 
him the best opportunity of perfecting his oratorical faculty 
and acquiring a habit of speaking on all subjects ; " and in 
some of his works Cicero himself speaks enthusiastically of 
the philosophy he cultivated, " as the parent of eloquence 
and copiousness ; declaring that he owed all the fame of 
his eloquence, not to the mechanical rules of the rhetoric 
cian, but to the enlarged and generous principles of the 
Academy."! 

The reader, in recalling his conduct when assailed by 
misfortune, will perhaps agree with us, that as is often the 
case, his philosophy displayed its results more happily in 
the cultivation of his mind than in the government of his 
affections. Indeed in all his greater sorrows it seems to 
have been utterly without power. We can hardly imagine 
a spirit more subdued than his, when bewailing the loss of 
Tulliola, when suffering in exile, or when waiting in anguish 
the return of Ceesar at Brundusium. No one, we believe, 
has questioned his want of equanimity; though Middleton 
appears to have thought with him that the defect was seen 
not so much in encountering, as in timorously anticipating, 
danger.} 

*Hanc Academiam novam appellant [Acad. 1.13.] ut hsec in philosophia ratio 
contra omnia disserendi, nullamque rem aperte judicandi, profecta a Socrate, repe- 
titaab Arcesila, confirmata a Carneade usque ad nostram vigeret aetatam. 

De. JVat. Deo. 1. v. 

t Tusc. Quaes. 2. 3. Orator sub init. 

j Middleton 1. 307, Ep. Fam. vi. xiv. 



216 SKETCH OF THE 

In forming an opinion of his views in regard to the great 
points of religion, it is difficult, if at all possible, to recon- 
cile the doctrines he avows and sustains in some parts of 
his works, with the express contradictory declarations of 
many of his letters. If we credit the first, we must go with 
his modern historian and regard him as believing in the 
being of a God, a providence, the immortality of the soul, 
a future state of rewards and punishments, and the eternal 
difference of good and ill.* But on the other hand, if we 
take the positive unexplained opinions of his repeated let- 
ters, it is not possible to escape the conclusion that both 
the soul's immortal nature, and a state of future retribution, 
were equally disbelieved.! His indefatigable friend, the 
Doctor, exerts his utmost ingenuity in his attempt to 
extricate him from this dilemma ; but we confess, that 
though anxious to be persuaded, he has left us still in 
doubt ; the rather as he is here constrained to abandon the 
authority of the letters in which, to use his own words, we 
are to seek the genuine man without disguise or affecta- 
tion. It is gratifying, however, that little doubt can exist, 
that whilst Cicero upheld the religion of Rome, he regard- 
ed it merely as an engine of state, and was far beyond the 
reach of its extraordinary though salutary superstition. 

His learned biographer, though he extols his religion as 
of heavenly extraction, and as built upon the foundation of 
a God, a providence, an immortality, and though he speaks 
with confidence of the excellence to which one of so en- 
larged a mind and happy disposition had carried the natu- 
ral law, is yet forced to concede that any thing like an 
assured belief of the great doctrines he ascribes to him was 
utterly inconsistent with the philosophy he cherished, 
which, as we have seen, admitted in its conclusions, noth- 
ing beyond a high degree of probability. Again, from a 
general view of the subject, the Doctor deduces the insuffi- 
ciency of the natural law even as understood by Cicero, 

* Tusc. Quaes. 14. xxvii. Cato Major 21. 2. 3. Frag. Lib. deRep. 3. De Nat. Deo 
3. 3. De Divin. 2. 72. De Amicitia. 
t Ep Fam. 5. xvi. lb. 21. lb. 6. 3. lb. 4. lb. 21. Ad Atticum 4. x. 



I 



LIFE OF CICERO. 217 

gifted as he was, and zealous as had been his pains and 
study in ascertaining it; and takes occasion sensibly and 
piously to point us to the divine light of the gospel as 
affording without the pains of searching, or danger of mis- 
taking, not only the hope, but the assurance of happiness, 
and as making us not merely the believers but the heirs of 
immortality. Whatever, therefore, may have been Cicero's 
conceptions of a Deity, his providence, and of other points 
of religion, we have here disclosed a defect, striking direct- 
ly at their efficacy, end which we doubt not was no less 
operative in his case than in that of others of the pagan 
world, equally as enlightened and far more virtuous. In- 
deed we have no hesitation in agreeing with Watson, sus- 
tained as we think he is by all experience, "that there never 
was any such thing as natural religion in the world; that is, 
there never were in the world just notions of the Supreme 
Being and his perfections and providence, and of a future 
state of rewards and punishments, but what have been bor- 
rowed from revelation."* 

With regard to the manner in which Cicero met his ter- 
rible fate, writers have thoroughly differed. Quintilian, who 
in his estimate of his character, was not clear of the fault 
which has taken much of value from the learned, laborious 
and ingenious work of Middleton, seems to have thought 
that in the closing scene of his life there was a display of 
signal heroism ;t whilst Plutarch speaks of it with con- 

* Preface to EvicL Nat. Rel. and Christianity. There is the same thought in the 
third satire of Doctor Donne : we give it in the less rugged verse of Parnell. 

"Is not religion (heaven descended dame,) 
As worthy all our soul's devoutest flame, 
As moral virtue in her early sway, 
When the best heathens saw by doubtful day?" 

Cicero has given us an eloquent description of the law natural. "Est quidem 
vera lex diffusa in omnes, constans, sempiterna. Huic legi non abrogari fas est, 
neque derogari in hac aliquid licet, neque lota abrogari potest, neque vero aut per 
senatum, aut per populum, solvi hac lege possumus. Neque si nulla erat Romae 
scripta lex de stupris, idcirco non contra illam legem sempiternam Tarquinius vim 
Lucretiae attultit. Erat enim ratio profecta a rerum natura,et ad recte faciendum im- 
pellens, eta delicto avocans, quae non turn denique incipit lex esse, cum scripta est, 
sed turn cum orta est: orta est autem cum mente divina*" 

■fduod provabit morte quoque ipsa, quam praestantissimo suscepit animo. 

Quhit. xii. i. 

19 



218 SKETCH OF THE 

temptuous pity. "How deplorable," saya the latter, "to 
see an old man for want of proper resolution, suffering 
himself to be carried about by his servants, endeavoring to 
hide himself from death, a messenger which nature would 
soon have sent him, and overtaken notwithstanding, and 
slaughtered by his enemies." This lofty indifference to 
death does well enough in print ; and Plutarch might him- 
self have resorted to suicide, the act he commends in De- 
mosthenes. His remedy in practice, however, unless the 
mind be dethroned, is of no easy digestion ; and we are not 
disposed to condemn in the sufferer conduct to which na- 
ture prompts us all ; the rather if, as some believe, his reli- 
gion pointed to "ills he knew not of." 



LIFE OF CICERO. 219 



SECTION IX. 



We now approach the public character of Cicero. "As 
to his political conduct," says Dr. Middleton, "no man was 
ever a more determined patriot, or warmer lover of his 
country than he."* We have no doubt whatever, that he 
did love his country, and would have rejoiced to have seen 
her flourishing in republican grandeur; but, unless we re- 
ject the plainest accumulated testimony, we can never ad- 
mit the Doctor's claim of determined patriotism, for his fa- 
vorite. There is no part of the public life of Cicero, after 
his consulship, to which we may point with pleasure unal- 
loyed; saving only his spotless government when abroad. 
Throwing aside as anterior to the consulate, the folly, to 
say no more, of upholding the exorbitant grant of the Ma- 
nilian law, an early and poweiful cause, in our view, of the 
subsequent calamities, and conceding, as far as Middleton 
himself could desire, the purity and patriotism of his mo- 
tive in that disastrous step, we have sought in vain a sin- 
gle justificatory reason for the union with Pompey on his 
return from the Mithridatick war; and are constrained up- 
on Cicero's own admission to believe that that union had 
its origin in a desire to save his own darling authority; un- 
mixed we fear, with any the least conviction, that Rome 
would reap advantage from their alliance. If, as we think, 
his object was to protect himself, and we cannot think 
otherwise, if his own letter may be credited, he must have de- 
termined to promote the views of his ally ; otherwise, the 
support he sought, would have been of course withheld; 
and if he did so determine, must he not forego the high 

♦Middleton. 3.359. 



220 SKETCH OF THE 

title of steadfast patriot, or retract his declaration that Pom- 
pey had no good intentions towards the state. But, admit- 
ting that at the moment of their union he did not distrust 
the designs of his ally, and that he might avail himself of 
his friendship for his own protection, without injury to his 
country, can a rational doubt exist, after the formation of a 
triumvirate, with purposes by his own innumerable admis- 
sions impious, and when, as he tells us, his friend was 
contemplating confusion and boundless dominion, that it 
was his duty if too fascinated by public distinction to with- 
draw, admitting that withdrawal could be vindicated, to 
strain all the vast power of his eloquence, in averting the 
ruin he predicted and denounced ? But what in point of 
fact was his course at that important moment when all 
agree that the Roman constitution received its deadliest 
blow ? Why he dissuades the union of Pompey with Cae- 
sar. But that union matured in spite of him, in dread lest 
Caesar shall ask his favor to an agrarian law, which he then 
very properly condemned, but which, by the way, he after- 
wards espoused ; unlike to the really determined patriots, 
Cato and the rest, he fled from his post upon the consular 
bench, and left the outraged state, so far as his efforts and 
eloquence could avail, without a shield. 

It is true that the triumvirs, by means of the large force 
at their command, had become so powerful, that in all hu- 
man probability the best efforts of Cicero's eloquence, even 
if dauntlessly exerted, might not have availed; but this 
could not dispense with the duty of some attempt at least, 
to check the growth of a power fatal to the republic ; nor 
is it possible to reconcile the neglect of such attempt with 
the determined patriotism with which his eulogist has sought 
to invest him. But if, conceding as we do, the difficulties 
of the times, and the great probability of defeat, we should 
not hesitate to approve an entire withdrawal from the pub- 
lic councils, [in which event, however, all pretensions to 
steadfast patriotism must have been surrendered, as that is 
tested by the toil and danger it encounters,] what inge- 
nuity can devise, we will not say an adequate, but any apo- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 221 

logy, for the unmeasured subserviency to power after his 
exile ? Then, as will be remembered, he was not merely 
passive, but tamely, and on all occasions, bowed to the 
sovereign nod of the triumvirate ; lavishing, professedly 
with reluctance, but with no manly effort to avoid it, his 
authority and eloquence in fostering its power; repeatedly 
sustaining grants which, without zeal, would in all likeli- 
hood never have prevailed ; flattering the usurpers in prose 
and verse ; making a bawd of his eloquence ; surrender- 
ing his just resentments in the defence of the vilest of man- 
kind, his own mortal enemies, at the mere beck of Pom- 
pey: and all this because others, who ought to have been 
leaders, were wanting in duty ; because an opposition to 
which he had contributed no one effort, was unavailing, and 
because having done and suffered much for his country, he 
thought himself at liberty to consider what was due to grat- 
itude, his more private connections, and the honor of his 
brother; at the same time too, acknowledging in his letters 
to Atticus, whence we are to gather the undisguised opi- 
nions of the genuine Cicero, that the schemes then forming, 
and whose success he was advancing, were designed for 
no earthly purpose save the destruction of the common- 
wealth.* 

The apologist of Cicero, in his attempt to relieve him 
from this most serious charge, tells us that "it was the ob- 
servation of his favorite, which long experience had con- 
firmed to him, that none of the popular and ambitious who 
aspired to extraordinary commands and to be leaders in the 
republic, ever chose to obtain their ends from the people 
till they had first been repulsed by the senate."! "This," 
says the Doctor, "was verified by all their civil dissensions 
from the Gracchi to Caesar; so that when he saw men of 
this spirit at the head of the government, who by the splen- 
dor of their lives and actions had acquired an ascendant 
over the populace, it was his constant advice to the senate 
to gain them by gentle compliances, and to gratify their 
thirst of power, by voluntary grants of it, as the best way 

*Ad. Atticum. ii. xvii. |De Consular. Provin. xvi. Phil. v. xviii. 



222 SKETCH OF THE 

to moderate their ambition, and reclaim them from despe- 
rate counsels. He declared contention to be no longer 
prudent than while it either did service, or at least no hurt; 
but when faction was grown too strong to be withstood, 
that it was time to give over fighting, and nothing left but 
to extract some good out of the ill, by mitigating that power 
by patience, which they could not reduce by force, and con- 
ciliating it if possible, to the interests of the state.* This 
was what he advised, and what he practised; and it will ac- 
count in a great measure for those parts of his conduct 
which are the most liable to exception on the account of 
that complaisance which he is supposed to have paid at 
different times to the several usurpers of illegal power.f 

In answer to this argument, which indeed the Doctor 
does not appear to have thought triumphant, we would ob- 
serve, that if we take as a guide the letters of Cicero de- 
ploring the evils of the times, we will find that though he 
disapproved the uncompromising patriotism of Cato, he was 
yet so far from thinking it unwise to contend, that he im- 
plores a young friend, Curio, "incessantly to think upon 
the virtues which that generous patriot must possess, who 
in such a general depravation of manners gloriously pur- 
poses to vindicate the ancient dignity and liberties of his op- 
pressed country,"! or, if it be admitted that he did think it 
unwise to contend, and thus exasperate a power too strong 
for them, how can we approve his constant efforts in ex- 
tending that power, irresistible as he already believed it? — 
Why, says the argument, if the senate, unmindful of its 
dignity, would meanly abandon its authority and neglect its 
duty, in gratifying their thirst of power by voluntary grants 
of it, then the ambition of the chiefs would be moderated, 
and themselves be reclaimed from desperate counsels. 
What did Dr. Middleton, or what did Cicero understand to 
be desperate counsels? Surely, these at first glance are 
discernible, in a design upon the ruin of the republic, to 
reach unlimited dominion. If such were the design, and 
nobody ever doubted it, could Cicero imagine that surren- 

* Pro Balb. xxvii. De Offic. Li. f Middleton. 3. 365. J E P« Fam S. v. 



LIFE OF CICERO, 223 

der at discretion was the mode to avert it ; or could he have 
believed that ambition, which grows by what it feeds on, 
was to be appeased by appliances short of its demands? — 
In a word, his doctrine, as pressed by his friend inculcates 
in effect a slavish submission to prosperous faction howso- 
ever atrocious, is in nothing recommended by the unworthy 
hope it suggests, that patience under power will mitigate 
its exercise, and is of all conceivable doctrines the most 
hateful to a determined patriot.* 

We have before intimated a doubt of Cicero's sincerity 
in the apologetical letter to Lentulus, which related to that 
part of his course as a statesman now under consideration, 
so far as he professed to be satisfied that his own conduct 
was sustained by the principles which that letter discloses. 
This doubt, built upon the consciousness of unworthy com- 
pliances which ethers of his letters betray, is entirely dissi- 
pated when we reflect upon his peculiar situation at the 
time, and upon the strong reasons personal to himself which 
must have naturally prompted him to seek a shelter in the 
protection of the powerful. It will be recollected that the 
misfortune of his exile had in a great degree, if not alto- 
gether, grown out of the connivance of Pompey, and the 
positive co-operation of Caesar with Clodius. Had his sub- 
serviency been as great before his exile as afterwards; in 
other words, had his union with Pompey then included 
Caesar, there can be no question that the calamity might 
have been averted. Not firm enough of purpose, however, 
on his return to withdraw, a course which he approved and 
contemplated, and to which his ease and professed princi- 
ples invited him; and with no disposition to join the pa- 
triot Cato and the rest, in their unbending efforts to save 



* The egregious folly of Cicero's pretended gentle remedies, is clear, not only from 
the known nature of ambition, but in the particular case of Caesar, from indisputa- 
ble historical evidence. It is said in Middleton, on the authority of a writer of ad- 
mitted distinguished impartiality and correctness, that one of the greatest of fire- 
many unusual favors to Caesar, instead of satisfying him, served only to raise his 
hopes and demands still higher. "Egit cum tribunis pleb— ut absenti sibi— pelitio 
secundi consulatus daretur. Quod ut adeptus est, altiora jam meditans et spei plenus y 
nullum largitiouia, aut officiorum in quemquam genus publice privatimque omisit. 

Suet. J. Cass. 26. 



224 SKETCH OF THE 

the republic, there was no other alternative but to assume a 
scarce practicable neutral attitude, or to yield as he did 
thoroughly yield, to the will of the triumvirate. To this last 
course, if we have been sound in examining the argument 
of his apologist, no motive of patriotism could by any pos- 
sibility have impelled him ; and we are therefore left with 
no other conclusion, than that his devotion to these ene- 
mies of the state was induced by his sense of their power 
to protect him, and by horror of the calamity he had sus- 
tained. 

Doctor Middleton himself does not deny the compli- 
ances of Cicero at this time; nor does he contend that 
they were without indignity and dishonor, but represents 
him as forced to submit "to the iniquity of the times, and 
to his engagements with Pompey and Caesar." We will 
not stop to inquire how far it is consistent with the charac- 
ter of a determined patriot to succumb to any force ; but 
we cannot, for the soul of us, surmise the absolute neces- 
sity there was to confront it at all ; unless such may be 
seen in the duty which this character of patriot enjoins ; 
nor could we imagine, had not Cicero himself told us other- 
wise, that the option of withdrawal was denied to him. 
With regard to his engagements they could have been con- 
tracted with but one of two objects ; either with the sole 
view to protect himself, or with the double view to personal 
safety and advantage to the state. That the first was secur- 
ed we know, but can a rational mind believe that the safety 
of the state was, or could be promoted by adherence to 
men, whose power was fatal to its freedom; especially 
when instead of curbing that power, his eloquence was 
constantly lavished in feeding it. If he had made an effort 
not known to us, other than that the folly of which we think 
manifest, to wean the triumvirs from their flagitious pur- 
poses, or in the language of the argument, to conciliate 
their power to the interests of the state, it is perfectly cer- 
tain that such effort was ineffectual. Was it not then an 
imperious demand of honor, to dissolve all contract with 
men aiming at supremacy in a government of laws, and if, 



LIFE OF CICERO. 225 

as was probable, continued opposition would have been 
unavailing, should not integrity have taught him, if not 
resistance, at least to withdraw ? There is no want of 
charity in supposing that he declined to retire, either from 
dread of the triumvirate, or from passionate fondness for 
that sort of notoriety which his eloquence and participation 
in affairs could not fail to secure; for how is it possible, 
without imputing some such motive, to believe that he 
could submit to the alternative he writes of, "that he was 
under the sad necessity either tamely to yield to the sen- 
timents of those few who led the republic, or of joining in 
a weak and fruitless opposition."* No one, where such 
was the alternative, knew better than Cicero what course 
to pursue; he had already written to his friend announcing 
his intention, for this very cause to withdraw, and has in 
one of his orations extolled as worthy of unfading glory, 
the conduct of Metellus, in a dilemma exactly like to the 
one he deplores. Of that Roman he tells us, "De civi- 
tate decedere quam de sententia maluit." 

After the fate of Crassus, the subserviency of Cicero to 
the remaining usurpers, continued with no diminution, 
until his departure from Rome for his government of Cili- 
cia. As the head of a province, we may contemplate him 
with highest pleasure and unmixed admiration. Here all 
that enlightened wisdom, with the purest justice, could effect 
in healing the wounds of unbridled oppression was attempt- 
ed, not only quickly, but with an inflexibility of purpose, 
which neither gold nor the prayers of friendship could dis- 
suade. Here, the desire of Atticus and Brutus, and even 
of Pompey, the great ruler of his affections, unless sustain- 
ed by equity, could in nothing prevail. Possessed of a 
power seldom controlled, and in the enjoyment at pleasure 
of regal state, — vigor, moderation, justice and clemency 
marked his rule : the happiness of thousands was secured 
by kindness equal to his wisdom, and Rome beheld the ex- 
traordinary spectacle of a proconsular administration, with 
no stain from rapine, and in every way beneficent. 

* Ep. Fam. 



226 SKETCH OF THE 

On his return to Italy, as we have before said, the desire 
of war was universal; and the hour had arrived, abundant- 
ly to reveal to him, if indeed he had ever had a doubt, the 
vile purposes of his friends. The posture of affairs could 
have in nothing surprised him ; as with the precision of a 
prophet he had long predicted the calamities now menac- 
ing the empire. And here we cheerfully admit, that he 
did with his whole heart display .the love of country which 
we concede. He thought, as he has told us, that whichever 
party was triumphant, tyranny must ensue, and therefore 
with untiring zeal made the utmost effort to mediate a 
peace. But even here, though animated by love of coun- 
try to avert the perils he foresaw, acting upon principles, 
the fallacy of which we have attempted to make clear, and 
with a full knowledge we doubt not, that Csesar aimed not 
only at the ruin of his rival but at thorough supremacy, 
was it the part of a determined patriot, after a failure of 
his efforts to divert Pompey from a struggle, to counsel as 
he did, unqualified surrender without the shadow of resis- 
tance, to all the demands, odious or otherwise, of Caesar? 
With a preference for Pompey, as well as his cause, how- 
soever bad he may have deemed it, would a determined pa- 
triot, when that chief was in arms with the power and 
hearts of all the honest in his favor, and when the Roman 
senate regarded the triumph of his rival as fatal to the re- 
public, have, rather than try the experiment of resistance, 
preferred the most unjust conditions to the justest war?* 

Mr. Fox in one of his speeches professed to have been 
converted by the tragic scenes in France, from his youth- 
ful abhorrence of this sentiment of Cicero to a belief 
of its manifest wisdom. "He could hardly frame to him- 
self," he said, "the condition of a people in which he would 
not rather covet to continue, than advise them to fly to arms 
and to seek redress through the unknown miseries of a re- 
volution." We are certainly not wanting in admiration of 
this great man's wisdom, and combat any conclusion of his 

* Adacem hortari non desino, quee vol injusta utilior est, quam justissimum bel- 
lum. — Ad Atticum, vii. xiv. 






LIFE OF CICERO. 227 

illuminated mind with proper awe; but we cannot see in 
what way his human reasoning can be made to vindicate 
Cicero, as the advice which the latter gave, to secure a 
peace at whatever cost, did not spring from his horror of 
the miseries of revolution, admitting as we do that he felt it, 
but confessedly from his sense of the superior strength of 
Cassar.* Had he deemed the contest equal, though prefer- 
ring peace, and with the worst opinion of Pompey's cause, 
he would yet, rather than give up every thing, have risked 
a struggle. Besides, the sacred character he ascribed to 
the conspiracy of Brutus, with his assurance that had it 
been revealed to him, his whole soul would have been given 
to it, shows abundantly what calamities he would have 
hazarded to change the condition cf a people ; and again, 
the inexorable war which he urged against Antony, when 
he found him disposed to play the despot, proves to demon- 
stration, that in his practice, if not his judgment, there 
were crises at which the fiercest civil contention was com- 
mendable. Indeed in this latter war, as the reader will re- 
member, he was not only from the very outset its advocate, 
but was in all the stages of it the determined enemy of 
peace ; and though the avowed cause of his hostility to all 
accommodation was, that Antony would keep no terms, no 
rational doubt can exist, that his warlike counsels were in a 
great degree induced by a conviction, that though much 
blood might be spilled, the power of the consuls and Caesar 
would yet ultimately crush his own and the public enemy ; 
nor whilst ascribing it for the purposes of the argument, do 
we condemn this motive. 

It is scarcely necessary to show what Cicero thought of 
the probable conditions to which he advised so unlimited 
assent. We desire the reader however, to recall the elo- 
quent denunciation of Caesar, in the letter to Atticua 
already presented to him, and now ask his attention to 
another in which he will find Cicero exclaiming: "What 
can be more impudent? He has held his government ten 

* Ad. Att. vii. xiv. 



228 SKETCH OF THE 

years, not granted to him by the senate, but extorted by 
violence and faction ; # the full term has expired, not of the 
law, but of his licentious will ; but allow it to be law, it is 
now decreed that he must have a successor; he refuses, and 
says have some regard to me. Let him first show his re- 
gard to us ; will he pretend to keep an army longer than 
the people ordained, and contrary to the will of the sen- 
ate." Hence we may infer that if as the writer desired, Caesar 
had been gratified, the authority of the senate was in effect 
annihilated, and his own counsel necessarily suicidal. 

There is no doubt that a short time after, many of the 
best in Rome were most anxious for a peace, though few, if 
any, save Cicero, ever dreamed of a surrender without a strug- 
gle. This desire of peace was shown by the manner in 
which some propositions of Caesar were met by a grand 
council of the chiefs at Capua. Caesar's conditions were, 
that Pompey should go to his government of Spain, that his 
new levies should be dismissed, and his garrisons with- 
drawn, in which case he would himself deliver up his pro- 
vinces, the farther Gaul to Domitius, the hither to Consi- 
dius, and sue for the consulship in person, without requir- 
ing the privilege of absence. These conditions Cicero 
tells us were embraced with the addition of one preliminary 
article, that Caesar should recall his troops from the towns } 
which he had seized beyond his own jurisdiction ; so that 
the senate might return to the city and settle the whole 
affair with honor and freedom.! Favonius alone, appears 
on this occasion to have been against all conditions; and 
it is somewhat surprising that Cato did not join him. That 
Roman, however, seems to have thought the ample conces- 
sions of Caesar well worth the compromise of dignity which 
his conditions implied, and now clearly proved that his 
obstinacy was not of that senseless and destructive charac- 
ter, which Cicero would fain have us believe ; and it is not 
easy with patience to read a letter to Atticust in which he 

*No man had been more instrumental than our orator in the prolongation of this 
very command. 

t Ep. Fam. xvi. xii. Ad Atticum. vii. xiv. X Ibid. vii. xv. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 229 

is told that all rejected the advice of Favonius, and that 
Cato himself, would now rather live a slave than fight. 
There would have been less injustice in this ungenerous 
imputation, had Cato, at the outset, joined him in unresist- 
ing obedience to insolent and unmitigated demands. 

But whilst we think that the submission to Caesar's pow- 
er, and the counsel it induced, can never be reconciled 
with that kind of patriotism which Dr. Middleton has 
claimed for Cicero, we repeat our belief that in his ultimate 
determination to join with Pompey, there was a display of 
firmness rarely discernible in his actions, and certainly not 
promised by the admitted irresolution which preceded it. 
In this determination, however, if we may judge from his 
own declaration, gratitude, more than patriotism, was the 
prompting cause.* But be this as it may, if as we before 
said, he was not by some means assured that he could not 
offend the generous Csesar beyond the measure of his 
clemency, and did in sincerity believe that the cause of his 
friend was the weaker, the warmest commendation was not 
undeserved; and as to the protracted irresolution prior to 
his flight, it is in our view more the subject of pity than of 
blame ; for though he thought Pompey would prove the 
juster, modester and honester king, t yet the task of fight- 
ing for a king of any sort, could have been in no way grate- 
ful, and it was without doubt a most ample tribute to grati- 
tude, especially if he believed Caesar the stronger, to aban- 
don a neutrality, safe so far as that general was concerned, 
and incur by an union with his enemy the anger of a pow- 
er which, if successful, might have destroyed him. Here, 
however, all praise, even with proviso, must cease. 

Although Cicero believed that Pompey, if successful, 
would conquer after the manner and pattern of Sylla, with 
much cruelty and blood, it was also his belief that if he 
failed, the very name of the Roman people would be ex- 
tinguished, t What then was the duty of a determined pa- 



*Hominem (Pompeitim) sum secutus privato officio, non publico; tantumque apud 
me grati animi fidelis memoriavaluit.— Pro Marcello. 5. 

|Ad Atticum x. vii. JIbid. xi. vii. 

20 



230 SKETCH OF THE 

triot when enlisted in his quarrel ? Surely to adhere to his 
party so long as it had power to contend. Well, what was 
in point of fact the value of his long delayed adhesion ? 
Why piqued, as we have seen, when forbidden to talk of 
peace, for to the last he cherished a baseless hope of accom- 
modation, and offended at the neglect of his counsels, in- 
stead of warm co-operation with his friend, he walks deject- 
edly about his camp, makes even what he fancied to be 
ruinous the subject of his railleries ; at the very first blow, 
abandons the cause ; and tremblingly invokes the mercy of 
a man whose success, if we believe him, was incompatible 
not merely with the happiness, but the very name of the 
Roman people. But admitting that the disastrous field of 
Pharsalia was enough to appal the true and the brave, 
though on the firm soul of Cato and a thousand others it 
had no such effect, how could a determined patriot wait 
at Brundusium, the mercy of the conqueror, when the 
cause of his country was flourishing in Africa, and when 
the power of its friends was greater than that of Ceesar? 
Why, says Cicero, I did not think that our country ought 
to be defended by barbarous and treacherous auxiliaries; 
and yet in the letter urging this excuse, betraying the utmost 
consciousness of its shallowness, acknowledging his fear 
that he would lose the respect of the worthy, and withal 
the torment he endured in the reflection, that even should 
the combatants in Africa be conquered their fall would be 
glorious.* By what magic process Dr. Middleton could 
transmute actual desertion, and suppliant waiting upon the 
destroyer of the republic, into determined patriotism, we 
have not acumen to discover. 

But supposing, what to be sure is in the nature of things 
impossible, that a firm patriot could anxiously seek an op- 
portunity of repose under a despotism he abhorred, and this 
too, when there was every encouragement to contend ; is it 
conceivable that such a patriot could deign to flatter the 
despot with highest praise and increase of honors ? and yet 
both these, in an eminent degree, did Cicero. So far from 

* Ad Attitum. x. vii. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 231 

contemplating Caesar as the extinguisher of the Roman 
name, we repeat that if we take as a guide the speeches 
for Ligarius Marcellus and Deiotarus, we cannot regard his 
rule other than beneficent. Indeed an entire history of 
panegyric could scarce present applause more inflated than 
that of Cicero.* To what can this be imputed? Some in- 
cline to pardon the flattery of the speech for Marcellus, as 
it breathes a fervent, though artfully expressed desire, that 
Caesar would restore the republic. For ourselves, we had 
no disposition to enlarge upon it, and should have been al- 
together silent in relation to it, but for this claim with which 
it is utterly at war, and upon which Cicero himself, with all 
his voracity of pretension did not at this time insist; for he 
repeatedly admits, that it was his intention to live quietly as 
a slave, that he was taking all pains even with artifice to 
conciliate his ruler, and all those in any degree of favor 
with him, that it was his part to be content with what was 
allowed him, and that he who could not submit to this, 
ought to have suffered death.t Nor will he leave us any 
doubt as to the nature of his flattery: for he expressly in- 
forms us that it was scandalous to flatter the man under 
whom he ought to be ashamed even to live.t In short, un- 
less we totally overlook his own repeated acknowledgments, 
as well as ample evidence derived elsewhere, we must, how- 
ever reluctantly, deny to him any the least merit at this time, 
other than that which may be seen in the sincerest sorrow 
for the ruin of the republic; and even this, it may well be 



*It appears from a letter toSulpicius, then governor of Greece, that there was one 
senator and only one who, in this affair of Marcellus, deserved the title which Dr. 
Middleton claims for the orator. "What the senate did," says Cicero, "was this: 
upon the mention of Marcellus by Piso, his brother Caius having thrown himself at 
Caesar's feet, they all rose up and went forward in a supplicating manner towards 
Caesar. In short, this day's work appeared to me so decent that I could not help 
fancying that I saw the image of the old republic reviving. [The whole senate on 
their knees to an usurper, the reader will probably think a strange symptom of reviving 
freedom.] When all, therefore, who were asked their opinion before me had re- 
turned thanks, excepting Volcatius, [for he declared that he would not do it, 
though he had been in Marcellus's place,] I, as soon as I was called upon, changed 
my mind, Caesar's magnanimity and the laudable zeal of the senate getting the 
better of my resolution.— £;?. Fam. 4. 4. 

f Ep. Fam. 9. xvi. & xvii. J Ad. Atticum. xiii. xxviii. 



232 SKETCH OF THE 

feared, was in no slight degree mixed with regret at the loss 
of his own loved authority.* 

It had been well for his good name had he or his apolo- 
gists left mankind at liberty to attribute his applause of the 
usurper to an impulse of the mother of the virtues ; for, 
putting aside the higher claims of country, where was there 
ever a larger or a juster debt of gratitude than that of Tully 
to Caesar? What was his condition when made the object 
of the clemency his immortal eloquence has embalmed? — 
Caesar, at his rupture with Pompey, did not ask his active 
friendship, and would have been content with his neutrality. 
To secure even that boon, the mighty Roman almost 
stooped. Whatever there was of value, however, in Cice- 
ro's adhesion, was given to Pompey ; and though after no 
very warlike fashion it is true, he did put himself in a way 
to fight against Caesar, who yet in the midst of his tri- 
umphs, disdaining revenge, saved him from despair and met 
him not merely with honor, but affection. But his apolo- 
gists ascribe his flattery to the great height of Caesar's 
power, will have no reasonable man to blame it, though 
he tells us that it was not only blamable but scandalous, 
and they will not hear of gratitude to a tyrant; nor 
will Cicero himself permit us to think that that feeling, at 
all times so extolled, had been here allowed to operate; for 
after the death of the usurper, we seek in vain in all his 
allusions to him, the godlike virtues once so eloquently 
painted; the old denunciations are then resumed, and had 
he been a guest, he tells us, at the glorious feast of the 
ides of March, no one of its dainties should have escaped 
untouched.! 

*We can scarcely doubt that, added to his dislike to tyranny, Cicero found an 
abundant source of joy in the assassination of Cssar, as he believed, and with jus- 
tice, that if followed Tby a restoration of the republic, his own vast control in the 
state would be revived ; and it is discoverable from his letters, when he found that 
no such result would spring from it, how deeply anxious he was to recover his im- 
portance. For this purpose he courted the conspirators, Antony, Octavius, Dolabel- 
la and Hirtius, in what fashion, the letter to Antony has told us. This, his too 
zealous friends excuse, and contend that lie did it to keep the parties balanced, and 
that the country might regain her liberty ; but we fear that Mr. Guthrie is right in 
treating such defence as despicable ; and perhaps these pages, should the reader 
have had patience to get through with them, sustain that view. 
tEp. Fans. Ad.Cassium, Ad, Treboniurn. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 233 

We have now reached the last stage of this far from 
grateful inquiry. Here, though we are free to admit that 
when Antony had taken the field, the zeal and eloquence 
of Cicero were ardently exerted in arming the state and 
stimulating its energies against him, and that the last strug- 
gle was in a great degree kept alive and invigorated by his 
counsels; and but for the impolitic demands of his eulo- 
gists, would have gladly overlooked a perhaps pardonable 
want of firmness before, and for some time after, his irre- 
concilable breach with the public enemy ; yet we cannot 
forget that in an investigation of this kind we are combat- 
ting a claim which, if conceded, would elevate him, in point 
of patriotism, to a rank from which in truth he was immea- 
surably distant: we mean the rank of Cato. Unlike to the 
rest of mankind, however, Dr. Middleton saw no sanctity in 
that rank, and did not scruple in extolling his idol to depress 
the noble Roman. Well, what was the course of Cicero 
on the excitement growing out of Caesar's funeral, the pro- 
duct of Antony's perfidious and fatal eloquence; a course 
which this argument compels us to subject to a test con- 
fessedly stern ? Why to avoid danger he left his post. 
Plutarch imputes his withdrawal to fear, and tells the truth 
when he adds, that there was great and particular cause to 
dread Antony, — "for being sensible of his weight in the 
administration, and of his strong attachment to Brutus, he 
could hardly bear his presence. Besides there had long 
been some jealousy and dislike between them on account 
of the dissimilarity of their lives." 

Some time after Cicero's retirement, there was to be a 
meeting of the senate, and he set out towards Rome; but 
on the road received intelligence from various quarters that 
the city was filled with soldiers, that the veterans talked des- 
perately of all those who did not favor them, and that cer- 
tain armed men were provided for some attempt at Tuscu- 
lum.* This fixed him in a determination not to venture to 
the senate, and to withdraw from a city where he had not 
only flourished, he says, with the greatest, but lived even as 

*Ad Atticum xv. iv. Ibid. v. Ibid. viii. 

20* 



234 SKETCH OF THE 

a slave with some dignity;* and now it was that he left Italy 
for Greece, but checked, as the reader will remember, by 
adverse winds, and learning good news of Antony, (for 
Plutarch tells us that he did not choose to be without news,) 
he returned, thanking the elements for preserving him from 
infamy, delivered his first philippic, and again frightened, 
withdrew to Naples, where he wrote his second, which cost 
him his life, but which was not pronounced in the senate. 
Nor do we hear of him again upon the consular bench 
until Antony withdrew, or until, in the language of Middle- 
ton, the road was open to him, and there were no troops 
from which he could apprehend any danger. Now, though 
we have before said that there was in all probability a very 
imminent danger to be dread-ed, and feel no desire to cen- 
sure his abundant caution, yet we can never think that a 
fearless statesman would have so far listened to its sugges- 
tions, as to desert his post at a moment when the govern- 
ment and laws were sustaining shameful violation, and when 
there might have been need of his determined admonition, 
in keeping the high order to which he was attached, and 
which events soon proved not unworthy of his care, firm in 
the support of its dignity and authority. Nor can Cicero 
avail himself of the plea that the firmest patriot may with 
propriety retire when the danger is manifest, and when his 
life would be the forfeit without advantage to his country ; 
for it is clear, that his own idea of any such extreme 
peril was the result only of suspicion, that he had the 
strongest doubts whether his Grecian visit could be vindi- 
cated, and was apprehensive that it would be interpreted, as 
in point of fact it was interpretated, as a desertion.! The 
crisis, therefore, was not such as even to satisfy himself that 
his retreat was defensible. We repeat that we have here 
applied the sternest test, and should not have arraigned the 
patriotism of Cicero in any part of the last great struggle of 
republican Rome, but for this fond, and we will add hurt- 
ful, claim of his infatuated admirers, who by presenting him 
to the world as a model of all human excellency, have 

*Ad. Atticura. xv. v. flbid. xiv. xs. 



; 



LIFE OF CICERO. 235 

prompted the just advocates of truth, as well as the cap- 
tious and malignant, to a scrutiny in the examination of his 
life, which could not fail to have brought into view slight 
stains and graver defects, which succeeding ages might well 
have been content to overlook, in consideration of his sur- 
passing power as an orator and scholar, his many admirable 
virtues, and the inestimable treasure he has bequeathed to 
mankind in his immortal page. 

In fine, it may with truth be said of Cicero, as has been 
said of an English churchman, that "want of firmness was 
the 'vicious mole' in his character. Cranmer felt that he 
could not stand erect in the independence of an uncompro- 
mising spirit before his sovereign, and was therefore reduced 
into an unworthy compliance with all the capricious and 
vicious mandates of that sovereign's will; nor cauld it be 
alledged in palliation of his first deviation from the strict 
path of rectitude, that it was the unavoidable result of cir- 
cumstances ; for Cranmer was not and could not be forced 
into the archiepiscopal chair; and therefore voluntarily en- 
tailed upon himself all the moral consequences of his ele- 
vation."* As Cranmer to his king, so and from the same 
cause was Cicero subservient to the triumvirs, and thus 

"With the stamp of one defect, 
Being nature's livery or fortune's star, 
His virtues else, (be they as pure as grace, 
As infinite as man may undergo,) 
Shall, in the general censure take corruption 
From that particular fault." — Hamlet. 

Posterity can have no reluctance in conceding to Cicero 
very many of the great essential qualities of a statesman. 
He had wisdom, foresight, learning, vast experience, elo- 
quence and love of country ; but this most ample conces- 
sion loses much of its value, if, as we have attempted to 
show, he was wanting in firmness, — that crowning attribute, 
without which, in tumultuous times, the rest are compara- 
tively useless. Moreover, it is in our judgment his mis- 
fortune that the historian when conceding many of the 
qualities we have named, must often do so at the expense 

*Lardner'3 Cabinet Cyclopaedia. 



236 SKETCH OF THE 

of far nobler virtues. For example, we cannot escape the 
conclusion that his wisdom must, at first view, have taught 
him the fatal tendencies of the Manilian law. Was it not 
the obvious dictate, we will not say of enlightened states- 
manship, but of ordinary sense, that there was danger in the 
creation of a power absolutely monarchical, in an empire 
professing to be free ; and till then but for similar grants 
uniformly republican ? We speak of course of that part of 
its history after the expulsion of Tarquin. Can any one 
believe that it was the honest conviction of Cicero, that the 
perplexing war in the east called for a power like to that, to 
which Rome never had recourse but at a moment of stern 
and last necessity? What thought the wise and virtuous 
even of the power which this act was designed to enlarge ? 
The historian has left us no doubt as to their views and 
fears, and surely none can be juster or more obvious! — 
"These unusual grants," said they, "were the cause of all 
the misery that the republic had suffered from the proscrip- 
tions of Marius and Sylla, who by a perpetual succession of 
extraordinary commands, were made too great to be con- 
trolled by the authority of the laws ; that though the same 
abuse of power was not to be apprehended from Pompey, 
yet the thing itself was pernicious, and contrary to the con- 
stitution of Rome ; that the equality of democracy required 
that the public honors should be shared alike by all who 
were worthy of them ; that there was no other way to make 
men worthy, and to furnish the city with a number and 
choice of experienced commanders ; and if, as was said, 
there were none at that time fit to command but Pompey, 
the true reason was because they would suffer none to com- 
mand but him."* 

Assuming then that Cicero did feel the weight of the 
admonition which these views suggest, (for beyond all 
doubt his deep knowledge of the Roman story told him its 
force,) to what can we impute his neglect of it? Not to a 
want of firmness ; for at that time there was no overgrown 
power acting upon him, and for aught we know, his sup- 

*Dio. I. 36. p. xv. 



LIFE OF CICERO. 237 

port of the law was in every way voluntary. Not to the 
iniquity of the times, or to personal engagements; for by 
neither is it pretended that he was governed. Hence there 
is strong reason to fear that in promoting a power clearly 
inordinate, he was in truth animated by the selfish motive 
with which he was taxed; the ardent desire, in a word, of 
of the sovereign dignity. But grant that in this first great 
public act of his life he was honest, can we concede that 
he was wise ? Beside himself, Caesar was the only great 
man who upheld this law, and nobody doubts but that he 
befriended it because it was unwise, and smoothed his way 
to the uncontrollable power he meditated. But could any 
doubt of its folly have existed, it was soon dispelled by 
no less a test than the fall of the republic. 

Doctor Middleton in speaking of the Manilian law ob- 
serves, that Cicero might probably have been convinced of 
the safety and expediency of the grant ; yet in animadvert- 
ing upon the motives of Caesar in sustaining it, he clearly 
shows that if we may relieve his favorite from the imputa- 
tion of dishonesty, there is still need of stronger reasons than 
exist, as we think, to save him from that of folly, "for this,'' 5 
says the Doctor, " is the common effect of breaking through 
the barrier of the laws, by which many states have been 
ruined ; when from a confidence in the abilities and integ- 
rity of some eminent citizen, they inve'st him on pressing 
occasions with extraordinary powers for the common benefit 
and defence of the society ; for though power so entrusted, 
may in particular cases be of singular service, and some- 
times even necessary ; yet the example is always dangerous, 
furnishing a perpetual pretence to the ambitious and ill de- 
signing to grasp at every prerogative which had been grant- 
ed at any time to the virtuous, till the same power which 
would save a country in good hands, oppresses it at last in 
bad."* 

We have already in terms of unmeasured applause spo- 
ken of the statesmanship of Cicero when consul, and as 

* Middleton 1. 136. 



238 SKETCH OF THE 

the head of a province; and- the inquiry into his firmness 
from the return of Pompey up to the last effort of the re- 
public, so far embraced an examination of his claims to 
the attribute of wisdom, during the same period, as per- 
haps to dispense with reflections here. We may remark, 
however, that if the view there taken be sound, his con- 
nexion with the triumvirate, and subsequent subserviency to 
Caesar, was the product of ambition and fear, and not the 
dictate of the wisdom we concede. 

Again, if, as perhaps we ought, we admit the authority 
of Plutarch, sustained as we believe it is by the old histo- 
rians without exception, Cicero in his entire relations with 
Octavius, was prompted by motives in a great degree, if not 
exclusively, personal. This writer aftei telling us that the 
pretended reason of their alliance was to be found in a 
dream of Cicero, and in the fact that the boy was born in 
his consulate, adds, "that the leading motive was hatred of 
Antony and avidity for glory; for he hoped to throw the 
weight of Octavius into the scale of the commonwealth. 
Hence Brutus in his letters to Atticus, expressed his indig- 
nation against him, that as through fear of Antony, he paid 
his court to young Caesar, it was plain that he took not his 
measures for the liberty of his country, but to obtain a gen- 
tler master for himself."* Then follows the charge that he 
had promoted Caesar's views when aiming at the sovereign 
dignity, only combatted by the letter which we have given, 
but which, it will be remembered, is supposed to be spu- 
rious. If the charge of Plutarch be true, there was the 
grossest want of integrity in the course of Cicero; but 
supposing the motives in the alliance to have been mixed, 
and that he did honestly believe that Rome might reap ad- 
vantage from the employment of Octavius, could a belief 
that it was proper in every possible manner to enhance his 
importance, have had its origin in wisdom? We have said 
that by his talents and the charm of his name and money, 

* Brutus, as the reader knows, did not confine the display of his indignation to 
Atticus . 



LIFE OF CICERO. 239 

he had in fact made himself so strong that it was in all pro- 
bability wise to secure his co-operation with the state, in 
obstructing the designs of its unquestioned enemy. An 
attempt to divest him of all control over the troops he had 
secured, would, in all probability, have deprived the state 
of their power; but we repeat, that to obviate this there 
was no necessity for a profusion of honors to a child. 
Such honors were in reality altogether gratuitous, as with- 
out them, at the mere suggestion of Cicero, and impelled 
by hatred of his rival he was on his way to the conflict. 
Why then exalt him to the high dignity of the senate ? 
and why decree that in soliciting any future magistracy the 
same regard be had to him as would have been shown by 
law had he been quaestor the year before? Cicero himself 
deemed an apology for his decree necessary ; but this apol- 
ogy, if we are right in the view we have taken of it, was in 
irreconcilable conflict with his powerful distrust of Caesar 
scarce a month before he made it. He had written to Atti- 
cus that if Octavius should come into power, the acts of 
Caesar would have a firmer sanction than they had in the 
temple of Tellus, and in short he in every way distrusted 
him. Where then, even admitting that it was wise to grant 
him a command at all, was the wisdom of stimulating by 
increase of gratuitous honors, the young man's thirst of 
a power which he believed would be abused, and to the 
attainment of which these very honors must of necessity 
have contributed. Doctor Middleton tells us that there 
was no way of checking Antony so effectual as by "em- 
ploying Octavius and his troops, and though the entrusting 
him with that commission would throw a dangerous power 
into his hands, yet it would be controlled by the equal pow- 
er and superior authority of the consuls, who were joined 
with him in the same command."* In estimating the wis- 
dom o Cicero, supposing him, as we do not, to have been 
sincere, we must not lose sight of the fact, that with fear- 
less assurance he had pledged his reputation that there was 
no danger whatever in the commission to Caesar. But 

♦Middle'on 3. 



240 SKETCH OF THE 

take the motive alledged by the Doctor, though discarded 
by himself, and admit that he apprehended danger, and 
found a safeguard in the joint power and superior authority 
of the consuls ; the employment of Caesar in that view of 
it must have been regarded as called for by necessity : in 
other words, the exigency must have outweighed the dan- 
ger. To meet the exigency then, was all that wisdom could 
have taught; the grant of a command did meet it; and 
therefore, all further honors were of course supererogatory, 
and could not fail to strengthen the power, the danger of 
which the argument presumes to have been contemplated. 
A wise statesman would have granted the command itself, 
with reluctance, had there been danger in it; a wise states- 
man yielding to necessity, yields so far, and so far only, as 
the necessity demands ; in short a wise statesman does not 
aggravate a danger, it is his duty to avert; and believing 
Cicero, as we do, to have been wise, we cannot impute a 
conduct at war with all wisdom, except to some such mo- 
tive as history, uncontradicted but by his own testimony, 
and that of doubtful character, has suggested. 

These observations apply to that part of his course ante- 
rior to his supposed co-operation with Caesar in his impious 
attempt upon the consulate. Upon the question which his 
learned though biased apologist has raised in his behalf, 
resting his argument upon the controverted letter, we for- 
bear to determine. It maybe said, however, that if Cicero, 
knowing as he did know, that the republic was lost through 
Caesar's traitorous neglect to follow up the victory near 
Modena, did nevertheless press his elevation to the consul- 
ship, or did not even at the hazard of his life, with the ut- 
most stretch of his majestic eloquence oppose it, no past 
service could expiate that crime, and even his fate, tragic 
as it was, might almost be regarded without a sigh. But 
here, most happily for his honor, there is a "loop on which 
may hang a doubt." 

Finally, should we have reached just conceptions of 
Cicero's character, and we have spared no pains to do so, 
we may conclude generally, that his religion, even as ex- 



LIFE OF CICERO. 241 

tolled by his enthusiastic admirer, was destitute of all that 
could give to it true efficacy as a guide, or power of solace 
as a fountain of hope ; that his philosophy, excellent in its 
precepts, was yet in the government of many of his affec- 
tions eminently worthless; that wise as a statesman, ambi- 
tion and fear more frequently than wisdom were his guides; 
that as an author, the test of human scrutiny for ages sus- 
tained, his splendid fame must live forever; that as an ora- 
tor, with richest gifts and deep and varied learning, he 
joined an eloquence perhaps unequalled in any age; and 
that with a number of admirable virtues, there was in his 
disposition and manners a benevolence and mild grace, 
leading to much that is commendable in his more private 
relations, and delightful in his intercourse with mankind in 
general. Unless, however, we discard the clearest, most 
powerful and plentiful testimony, and that principally his 
own, we are compelled to deny to him not only the attri- 
bute of patriotism in the high order of it claimed for him, 
but all the sterner elements of moral greatness; yet while 
we do so in homage to what we deem to be the truth, and 
have in obedience to its mandates chastened the admiration 
so justly springing from the illustrious qualities we con- 
cede, we are not of those who, in estimating the pretensions 
of this renowned Roman, would overlook the tumult and 
perplexity of the times at which he lived, or churlishly re- 
fuse, in some degree, to mingle compassion with our 
blame. 



H 404,85 



ERRATA. 



In Section I, for "questor and questorship," read, quaestor and 

quasstorship. 
In page 14, line 10, for "noble birth," read, good descent. 

13, omit "which we do not admit." 

26, for "its," read, their. 

16, for "Cicero," read, his. 

30, for "Cicilians," read, Sicilians. 
22, for "plebian," read, plebeian. 
21, for "displayed," read, announced. 

7, for "government," read, state. 
4, for "abler," read, more dexterous. 

31, for "the battle," read, battle. 



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